two parts crow and one part crone...

Sunday, February 20, 2011.

A woman named Misty popped in to my office one day this week. She came with a textbook and an invitation to attend a training program all about caring for pre-term and unwell newborns. She also had a little story to tell me about how a certain doctor was rumored to have said she thought the training opportunity should have gone to another doctor, not to the midwife. She said I must be a brave woman to be here, doing this...

What can I say? one part brave and two parts crazy I think. Its my job... I have been hired to push my way in through the resistance, to begin the creation of a space for midwives in this town. I am not here because the doctors wanted me. I am not here for the nurses. I believe that I am here because the people told their government that they wanted midwives, that they wanted their own midwives. The government has heard them and I applied for this position. So here I am.

I am just the crow on the prow of this icebound ship. Behind me I have all the support that I need. All the midwives that have gone before me in this land, may I truly honour them as I go forward, all the young Inuit women who may come along now, may I teach them well, the hands-on skills of midwives. Trying to show the doctors and the nurses that this is the way that it should be. Women having babies should be cared for by the women of their own community. Empowerment of Inuit women is the best way to preserve what is left of this culture. Spring is coming, the ice will melt, the waves will soften and begin to sway.

I saw a sign today. Well more of a poster really. I really liked it. It was an image of three very strong and healthy looking young athletic men. It boldly stated: "Strong men don't hurt women. Do you?" Oh, it excites me to see this. To know that women here are standing up and saying NO, this is not okay! I will not be your punching bag!

One part crazy and two parts heart. I want to be an ally, a friend and a teacher, to these women. At least for a while. I also want to fly home and be close to the warm arms of my girlfriend and my family.

painting/drawing by Heike inspired by my dream

babies are pure creative energy, gifts from the universe

Starting a new service in an institution such as a hospital is a bit of a slow process for this gal who is rather used to keeping quite busy. I am staring at that turtle tattoo on my right foot and trying to remember her lessons. Keep still, pay attention to the vibrations, and when the time is right to move forward then poke out your head and move. Slowly. Can you even imagine how slowly a turtle must move on the frozen tundra? Maybe I need another symbol.

There is always the raven. I watched two of them from my window for a while. Amazing creatures really. They were walking around a bit but mostly just sitting there on the roof, gazing about and speaking now and again. There is no doubt in my mind that they are talking. They don't talk a lot, just the occasional word or two. That was me at work this past week. Quite mostly, lots of sitting and gazing about, watching, listening with the occasional squak! just to remind them that I am there and I have got something worth hearing to say. It is lonely here for a midwife. I sense that the doctors do not really want to let me in... don't really know how.

Last night I had an amazing dream. I was in a hospital, beside the bed of a woman who had just given birth. Her mother and her Aunty were there too. We were in a crowded hallway but there was a big empty room nearby. I asked a nurse if we could use the empty room. She hesitated but finally agreed saying that we could only have it for a little while. As I wheeled the mother's bed into the empty room I was thinking that we would not leave it until we were good and ready. That we absolutely had the right to be in that room. The baby was like a baracuda, rooting, latching, sucking as if its life depended on it. It was trying to latch on to the grandmother but she knew she couldn't feed it. The mom was moving around, restless, unable to keep still, all over the bed like a wild horse. I took the baby from the gramma and helped it to latch onto this restless wild woman. The aunty was in the room, but not fully present, dressed in "professional" clothing and busy with her hand held communication device. At one point I kind of freaked out on this mom cause she was lying on her side and right on top of the baby, it seemed as if she was oblivious to it. I thought she was crushing it but no it was still latched and sucking hard! She was unable to keep still. But nothing was going to stop this kid from getting what it needed. As the dream ended the baby was lying on the pillow beside her head and somehow still latched and sucking! Anatomically impossible even with really stretchy breasts and nipples! The mom reassured me that the baby was okay.

So here is what I have come to after thinking about this dream off and on all day. I am the slightly overwhelmed midwife, impressed by the power of this baby to get what it needs. I am the grandmother with the dry empty breasts and I am the restless woman who has given birth to this voracious baby and now must nurture it. Sometimes I will be overwhelmed by this work and sometimes I will feel completely empty and dry. Sometimes I will be restless and pacing with impatience but through it all the baby (this midwifery project) will latch and suck and grow. Maybe we won't get much help from the nurse and the aunty but still the baby will thrive. Valerie thinks that the baby ending up at my head is significant. She reminds me that heads contain the brain and have two eyes, two ears and only one mouth... do more listening and observing (and thinking) than talking. This baby needs careful thought, careful planning... it must not get crushed under the body of this restless mother. I must stay focused on the project, the goal, Inuit midwives caring for Inuit birthing women and Inuit babies...

Gina, if you are reading this, I have not forgotten your very excellent question. I am pondering it and my fingers will ramble over the keyboard again soon with some kind of answer.

Thank you to everyone who found the time to read my first post and thanks especially to all who commented either here in the blog sphere or else by personal email. Your support and encouragement mean a lot to me.

walking backwards

The Wind picked up last night. I could hear it beginning to roar outside my windows when I went to bed and at first I wondered if it would keep me awake. But no, the wind song became my lullaby, accompanied me in dreamland, and like a loving companion, she was still there in the morning. I woke to the sound of a Raven, there is no other sound like it in the world.

I don't know who (if anyone) will read my meanderings. I will do my best not to bore you. This blog will be some kind of mix of journaling about my work in Iqaluit for the Government of Nunavut and the ramblings of my mind.

I left my home in Guelph just one week ago today and following a lovely little "transition-time" with my own dear loving companion, the lovely Valerie, I flew into Iqaluit on February 1st. The last time that I flew into Iqaluit I was on the same airplane as the deceased body of a young Inuit woman that I once loved with all of my heart. One can walk backwards against the bitter wind but time appears to go in only one direction... forward. Daisy is gone and I am still here. I kind of always knew that there was work for me to do in Iqaluit. Can I be completely honest here? I probably could not have come to this town to do this work if Daisy was still alive. Our love was impossible, her addictions and her violence made it impossible. I don't understand the mysteries of life and death but my heart tells me that it was time for Daisy to go. Death had her in his grip in summer of 08 when she was involved in the crash that killed her cousin. She lived through that, I think because she had some work to do back home in Iqaluit. The next time Death came for her he did not let go.

My work here in Iqaluit is to start midwifery services at the Qikqiktani General Hospital (QGH). There is already a midwifery education program at Nunavut Arctic College (NAC) and having midwifery services in the hospital is a vital component of that education program. The volume of births in this hospital will provide the perfect training opportunity for the students. High quality prenatal and birthing services already exist in Iqaluit, delivered by doctors and nurses, most of whom, like me, come from other places. My job is to work with these other service providers and the women of Iqaluit and the rest of the region, to integrate midwifery services into the existing services. From my perspective, the most exciting thing about the work that I am here to do is the fact that NAC's midwifery program is for Inuit women. This is about capacity building. This is about Inuit women pushing their sweet little brown babies out into the hands of Inuit midwives. Walking backwards, back to a time of fierce strength, independence and resourcefulness. Blending the traditional art and science of midwifery with "modern" midwifery, reducing dependence on health care providers from away, improving the health and well-being of the people of this wild land. People walking forwards, facing the wind, smiling and laughing as they go.

I bundled up in warm clothing and went for a walk outside today. I have this excellent pullover parka with a fur trimmed hood. It is so warm and snug. I wasn't planning to be out for very long so i just wore the regular boots and put long underwear under my jeans. For longer walks I wear snow pants and "serious" boots. Its really cold out there. I don't know how cold in terms of the numbers. My friends and co-workers will know this about me. I am a "broad-stroke" person who prefers not to get bogged down in details like -32 and -50 with the wind chill. Cold is cold and very cold is very cold! Just me and the ravens out there today... everyone else in Iqaluit is using vehicles, stinking up the frozen air with exhaust fumes. The wind was at my back going down the hill and towards the library and in my face (except when I turned and walked backwards) as I made my way up the hill and home. When I came inside I ate an orange that has been sitting on the table looking gorgeous and yummy. Something about being here gives me a greater appreciation for the humble orange. I found myself thinking... how far has this orange traveled to be here in my hands on February 6th? And what was it like for the first Inuit person in this land when he or she first gathered the courage to taste an orange?