Saving for home birth: the gift of a lifetime

A friend of mine wanted a home birth, but wasn't sure she could afford it.  She was looking at a midwife-staffed Kaiser hospital as a less expensive option.  I know many women who have done this, and certainly, hospital birth with midwives is a better option than a hospital without midwives.  But we need a shift in thinking about home birth: home birth is not a luxury that only the well-to-do should enjoy.  Home birth is standard practice for women who are healthy and have uncomplicated pregnancies.  Hospitals are there when we are ill, injured, or in life-threatening danger.

Some women and babies do need a hospital in the course of their pregnancy or birth.  But most women are safe delivering at home, where they maintain authority and freedom, and where are comfortable and protected.  The home (assuming it is a safe place for the mother) is more conducive to relaxation, release, surrender, and opening--keys to being able to birth naturally.  And the home is warmer, softer, quieter, and more welcoming to the new baby--a being who experiences the world for the first time, and deserving patience and gentleness.

Most insurance does not cover home birth in the same way it covers hospital birth, and therefore many families assume they can't afford it.  They are paying high premiums already, and they don't want to pay out of pocket on top of that.  That makes sense, and improving insurance coverage for home birth is important.   But insurance is there for us when things go wrong.  If for some reason you are unable to give birth at home, your insurance will cover your need for emergency care, medical induction, surgery, etc.  But the event of giving birth is not a medical event--it is a physical, and spiritual, and personal, and communal event, and for that you do not require a doctor, but someone who knows the ways of birthing, who loves and respects you, and who supports you through your entire pregnancy on your own terms.  That is what midwives are known for, and you don't need insurance to hire a midwife--unless they work in a hospital.

Midwives who serve in hospitals are wonderful people, and I hope their numbers increase.  But they must still operate under the hospital guidelines, which are designed by medical malpractice law for obstetricians.  This means if your labor is not going according to plan (a textbook's plan, that is), an OB takes over.  If you don't dilate fast enough, or your water breaks early, or any number of factors outside of medical control--there is a series of interventions awaiting you, and the midwives can't prevent that.

Meanwhile, at home, those hard rules don't apply so readily.  Midwives are licensed by the state and have to operate within the bounds of their practice, but their stance is one of patience, understanding, encouragement, and more patience.  They don't have a hospital room to clear out for the next person, their shift is not about to end, and they don't have five other patients they are checking on in between visits with you.  They are just there, supporting you in the ways that you need, until it's over.

The cost of a home birth is around $4000-$5000 in the Bay area, and that includes all prenatal appointments, the whole birth, postpartum visits, etc.  $4000 may sound like a lot of money for something you believe you don't "need," but it is very little money for 9 months of individually-tailored home-health care, and it is an unbelievable deal when compared with the costs of hospital birth, which, including prenatal and postpartum copays, premiums, and the hospital bill, would be many times that.  It is especially little money when you consider the significant impact choices like these can have on the lives of mothers, babies, and their families.

A woman giving birth in the hospital is much more likely to need pain medication, which makes her much more likely to need medical induction, which makes her much more likely to need surgery, and surgery makes it much more likely that she will struggle with breastfeeding, which makes it much more likely that her child will develop illnesses like diabetes.  Babies born in a hospital are much more likely to be impacted by pain medication, need extraction and resuscitation, be held for observation, and be forced to undergo myriad tests to rule out infection, etc.  This means extended separation from their mother, increased physical trauma, and a higher likelihood of difficulty breastfeeding, which can impact bonding and attachment as well as physical health.

Sometimes these things are unavoidable, and the birth is only one day--raising a child is a lifetime.  But that first day can have long-lasting impacts on mother, child, and extended family.  Women who give birth naturally at home often feel more prepared and supported in the work of mothering, have an easier time breastfeeding, and heal faster. 

I encourage women to start saving for a home birth--much less than you would spend on your wedding, your car, a hot tub, or a vacation.  Look at your health insurance and choose one that provides the kind of coverage you want, rather than resigning yourself to the kind of coverage you have.  Home birth is not a luxury, but the obvious choice for healthy women and babies everywhere.  Your whole family deserves it. 

Working with birth, death, and spiritual transformation

Birth and death can be intimate and vulnerable, medical and spiritual, painful and transformative.  As a doula, I believe women and their families want to make informed and intuitive decisions about their own birth. As a  minister I believe people know what they are longing for, and that the right listener, who asks just the right questions, can help them uncover what they need in their own lives.  And as a human, I believe others deserve my respect, kindness, and gentleness in my dealings with them.

I believe people prefer to feel intelligent, respected, and listened to.  I may ask questions about your beliefs, how you perceive your own strengths and gifts, and what you think you need help with.  We'll work together to support the growth you want!

The last funeral home in Berkeley

Yesterday I visited the last funeral home in Berkeley.  I hear there used to be nine, which makes sense, because a lot of people live here and, I imagine, many of them also die.  But over the years, Berkeley funeral homes have faded and closed, as families have chosen cremation or gone elsewhere for their services.  Harris Funeral Home, located on San Pablo Ave. near Gilman, was opened over 50 years ago to provide for the death needs of the African-American community, who at that time were not allowed to be embalmed with whites.

The business became a center of the community, providing micro-loans to families and providing care to generation after generation.  Though the founders are now deceased, their relatives have continued to provide services at some of the lowest prices available, and are committed to finding ways to keep their doors open.

I visited and spent about an hour with Stephanie Cheever, one of their family counselors, who also manages the books, takes calls in the middle of the night, helps with arrangements, and drives from San Francisco to host their estate sales on weekends.  She shared stories from the diverse clientele they have served over the years, emphasizing that they are not an African-American funeral home--they are a funeral home for the whole community.

A beautiful, custom-painted mandala is framed in their entry-way, the work of an Iranian artist they commissioned to create an energetically balanced color scheme for grief.  They have private prayer rooms upstairs for Muslims and others who prefer to maintain all-night prayer vigils.  They have cameras set up for skyping live services to family members and loved ones too distant to attend.  They create custom programs for families, and they "turn the place upside down" to accommodate whatever is right for each individual.

It was moving to hear their commitment to this community, members of which Stephanie says still call "to rake the leaves," or contribute in other ways as an expression of their gratitude.  Whatever our changing death needs may be, I pray that community centers like this one--where people of all faiths can simply come in and pray--will continue to find ways to fund themselves, and to provide for the people that need them.  Thank you for sharing your time with me!

first shot

I took a poll on Facebook and everyone who responded thought I should start a blog.  So here I go.

This blog is connected to the organization I created, Golden Circle Ministry (www.goldencircleministry.org), which aspires to honor ALL the cycles of life--not just the ones we like, but all the real, human ones--like being born, coming of age, getting married, and getting divorced.  Getting sick, dying, being grief-stricken.

The Golden Circle is the circle of life, of which we are all a part.  It is at times beautiful, at times deadly, at times laughable, at times tear-jerking.  I aim to be there--present--for the moments of my own life, and, if you prefer, I can try to be there--present--for some of the moments of yours.

I do this by slinking around the globe listening to people, by driving all over the Bay marrying and burying people, by inviting people into my home or into the lodge to pray or to be guided by their own sense of Spirit.

You are invited, too.

Some people don't believe in God.  There are days when I don't either.  It's all in the phrasing, how you describe this notion of "God," whether you make it believable.  Not that I have any investment in you believing.  I have an investment in your honesty and precision about what you DO believe.  Many people are too shy/scared/bored to elucidate what it is, exactly, they believe, and on top of that, what they long for.

So what do you long for?  When you've answered for yourself, you can answer for me, too.  I'm always listening.  And I believe the answer God is waiting for is our cumulative voice, our shouting, weeping, praying, singing, and whispering.  When I believe in God, I see a giant pair of ears always listening, an open heart always beating.  So whisper (or scream!) and be heard by infinite ears.  Snuggle up to that heart and let it lull you into dream-sleep.

When you wake up, tell me what you saw.  I'm waiting to paint your pictures on my wall.