My daughter Skyla is sharing more of her war/helping refugees experiences from a year ago. It is good to open these things, so many things I didn’t really know about either. So far there are 7 sections.

Going into Ukraine during war,

by Skyla Sokol, part 1 of 7:

(The accuracy of my memory may not be 100 percent in the order of how everything happened.)

After staying with our friends for a few nights in Glogow, Poland, we were refreshed washed and ready to return to the border to serve. I was very busy watching every YouTube video on the topic of dogs and was already trying to teach Bairo stuff. (Now, looking back at my videos, I laugh and am ashamed of all the newbie mistakes I made and how I couldn’t read his obvious body language.)

When we returned to the Polish-Ukrainian border, most of the volunteers had changed, but the maintenance man recognized me and asked me to help again, but I already had Bairo, so in the nights I would leave him with dad in the van and go help, and in the days we drove people to their next town.

One time, we drove a woman with her son, and my father asked the boy How old are you? and he said, I am 13 and was already offered a gun to fight.

When my father asked how that was possible, his mother said that when they were driving towards the border, when they stopped at one of the many blockposts, “and I was asked who is in the car. I said just me and my child.” When, the solder looked in, he said, “You call that a child? He is old enough to fight already.”

Another time, we were at a center where they let refugees stay for a bit then decide where they want to move on next. It was a big mall, made over into a refugee center. Security was tight, but we could go in because we had Ukrainian passports. It was amazing– all the stores were closed and remade into health clinics, bed rooms, children’s nurseries, and the food court was a place where you could get free, warm food.

The main store had 300 beds, and tons and tons of everything needed for life. There were aisle upon aisles of free things. (I of course stacked up on dog food, tooth paste, shampoo, and got myself nice knee-high boots to walk with Bairo on rainy days, because I only took one pair of shoes from Albania and they were getting worn.)

In that mall, Dad said he could drive someone if needed, and a worried young woman in high heels with 3 men with carts behind her found us and said, “Thank God you can drive me! I am going into Ukraine, and am bringing my husband these bulletproof vests, and these buses only take people the opposite way, into the Polish cities.”

So we drove her back to the border, and when we arrived at the border, my father and another man were pulling the shopping cart with all the vests in them. but when we came to the end of the Polish line, the soldiers did not let us pass to keep helping her with the cart, so that woman, thin, and on high heels, talking on her phone, hurriedly took the heavy cart with one hand and pushed it away. The hill she was going up was slanted, and my father and I could not contain our smiles at how funny she looked, struggling with the cart. (I still communicate with her, and last I heard her husband was in Bahmut– where very heavy fighting has been going on for a long time.)

Going into Ukraine during war, by Skyla Sokol, part 2

Later, Dad received a phone call and was asked to be a main instructor in a church in Ukraine for a missionary course that the pastor wanted to teach to the refugees from Kharkiv and Donetsk that were living at the church. It was next to the city of Ternopil, so it’s close to the border, relatively safe. He consented and we drove into Ukraine.

Right before the border,er, we stopped at a motel to sleep because in Ukraine you were not be out after dark [curfew]. My father wanted to sleep in an actual bed, so he left me in the van with Bairo–my first night alone with him.

At this point I did not even know dogs needed walks to spend their energy; I didn’t know how much to feed him (and the food labels on his dog food were all in different languages), or how often pups went to the bathroom. I would just would take him out to the bathroom when I thought he needed it, but trying to tell when he needed it was hard. I wanted to sleep but Bairo kept biting me and tearing everything he could get, then he started jumping and yelping, and then started doing his thing, and I was like aaaaaa ok ok ok now I understand what you want, lets go!!!

After 5 minutes outside, we came back, cleaned the mess, and he first layed down on a mat, but then came to me and curled up onto my stomach and slept fell asleep.

The next day we drove into Ukraine, everything was very serious. My dad instructed me that if something happens, forget the dog and run for your life; if shooting will come from the front, you fall in between the car seats, and I will fall on you.

Also he said, Don’t go off into woods with Bairo, always look very carefully as there can be mines.

Once we stopped for a break, and dad spoke on the phone while I took Bairo to the bathroom. We saw a path that led up a small hill, and I very carefully went up it. There, I saw dug trenches that had openings looking right at us. So I slowly turned away and went straight back to the car, fed Bairo and we left.

Going into Ukraine during the war,

by Skyla Sokol, part 3

We came to another hotel to stop before dark, nobody was allowed out after 10 pm I think. I was really afraid of going out 2 times a night to take Bairo out. We just stayed inside the hotel territory. The hotel was very nice, and they said that they do not allow dogs usually, but because of the war, Bairo could be in there. Then we drove on and came to the church in a village by Ternopil that we were going to stay in while dad had his course.

That was a very hard place for me; Bairo and I were almost constantly outside on walks at places where it was safe to let him off leash. I still knew almost nothing of life with a dog and the sanitation that others wanted. I always cleaned the living room floor after being there with Bairo. I was a bit carless about leaving his stuff around but quickly learned to avoid leaving anything where it should not be. I was reminded of how my mother would get irritated at me when I would be careless and could not understand why could I not take care of a puppy properly.

Someone told me, Skyla, just understand he is your dog, and you love him, but others are not used to his smell and do not want him around as much.

Dad said I should be starting up school because since the beginning of the war I haven’t done much. So I made a schedule and would fix Bairo food in our room, and do math while Bairo slept.

During this time I also overheard my mother and father having a disturbing talk on the phone, and I thought how hard it probably is for her to let us into Ukraine. Those days that Dad was at the conference, I did not tell him of how hard it was to be there with other people. Especially with that baby’s mother—no one else ever commented negatively on the dog.

I saw airplanes flying overhead on my walks with Bairo, and the air raid siren would go off occasionally… Mostly it was just me and Bairo out in the woods. We would talk to the refugees that lived there and one of them said, “My friend told me last week that a missile flew into our work office, all of the expensive technology was destroyed.” Another man was telling of how they were in a basement with many people for many days, and one woman started being hysterical, screaming, and saying we are all going to die! And the man shouted at her to shut up. Because he needed to keep everyone sane. They were then all rescued out of there later by bus.

It was around this time that we also heard that a man in Dad’s hometown that Dad knew, was shot in his car while his son got to escape. Also we heard that a good friend of ours, who was in occupied territory, could not contain himself and went to speak his mind to the ruzzians. He said, “Who are you saving here? We do not need saving!” And the soldier told him to step back ten steps. The solder aimed his gun and him, but shot into the air and said, That was a warning; now get out of here. Later when the man heard stories from other villages he understand how lucky he was because in other villages, the soldiers could wound you, then bury you alive or all other kinds of stuff.

When the missionary course finished, we got word that people from Romania will be driving humanitarian aid into Ukraine and will deliver it to a church, where good friends of ours were currently staying. We decided to drive to them, and then later to take some aid into Dad’s hometown [now de-occupied].

Going into Ukraine during the war, by Skyla Sokol, Part 4

The friends we went to see next included my best friend. They were a foster family with 11 kids, and my best friend, Nastya, was the eldest. When we arrived, and the younger children saw Bairo, they did not say anything for a while, and then one said, “What a fat little pup.” They were all very serious. I laughed and said puppies need to be a little round, it means that they are healthy. Later they were amazed at how he could sit, and shake hands (paws?),

They had a little dog of their own, and one boy asked me for some treats and started trying to teach their dog (Baron) to sit. “Baron, sit.” (Nothing) “My sweet Baronshik, please sit.” (Nothing ) “BARON, SIT!!!” (Nothing) So I suggested he watch YouTube videos about dog training like I did.

The family told us that their house got a missile in it; the roof and the mother’s favorite white bathroom was gone; the children room was also damaged. Nastya and I liked to walk our dogs together. We did not talk much… We just wandered around the woods and fields with our dogs off leash. Later I asked their dad if it is ok that I give their dog a leash that I got at the border that was too small for Bairo. And he said, that would be good because our dog walks like a prisoner in that chain.

The dad was really impressed with Bairo and said, “Skyla I have always wanted a companion when my kids grow up, so if you will need to give away Bairo, I would take him.” And his wife exclaimed, No! you cannot possibly; never!

The next day, the humanitarian aid came and 3 vehicles drove it all to Kiev—one was our van. We passed many blockposts, and after the fifth one, I stopped counting in my head and marked them on my hand. The closer we got to Kyiv more there was to see. Houses burnt, gas stations destroyed, ruzzian tanks burned, parts of the road looked like battle places. The gas stations had looooooong lines.

We stopped at one, and I was sitting in the car focused on my math while dad was in the store. And a man knocked at the window. I did not recognize him, but when I saw the little girl he was with, My math papers flew into the air and I burst the door open and hugged the girl very tightly. They were the muslim Crimean Tatars that we went to every year to the beach to!!!! And the little girl was my friend that I played with a lot, (8yo) she could not speak words because of some disability, but she was very happy to see me, and by sounds, and hands was telling me something very interesting.

Going into Ukraine during the war, by Skyla Sokol Part 5

When we came to Kiev, we came to our apartment. I can’t believe I had a dog that lived to see my own place… It was strange. I looked at my room and saw that there were dog treats left there that I had bought for one of the dogs at the horse stables, but never got to give them, and here I was with my own dog. I had meant those treats for another dog, and God gave me my own…

It was so strange walking Bairo by the doggy playground by our apartment. I had not even thought that my very own dog would walk on this ground. That night we slept in our beds, I slept in MY own usual bed with MY own dog. Nothing could be weirder. For more than a month I have been sleeping on a different place almost every day. And here was the feel of our own pillows and blankets that I lived with all my life.

That night I also went through the house like a thief, looking for all my valuables, and anything I thought the family would want. In the night, I again was worried, taking out the dog after hours that nobody could be out; the apartment security guard let me take him right out the door on the grass where it said “no dogs allowed.”

The next day, we went to the place where they put the humanitarian aid. It was at our friends’ house, the friends that took our cat in when we left. When they left, they let it outside, and put its water and food in a shed. The place was covered in a thick layer of dust, and I saw cat prints in the shed, but did not really have hope of finding the cat. The food was gone, and her bed did not look like it was slept in.

We packed up food products, candles, and other things into our van and were getting ready to set out to the de- occupied villages. Dad said that this is where we really should be careful, no going off the road at all. As we drove through blockposts they sometimes re-routed us and would not let us on certain roads; they also had mines on the sides of the roads, and camo mini forts, and all over the roads were hedgehog tank stoppers (they were metal poles all connected in the middles and looking in different directions.)

They asked for our passports, destination, and goal on every blockpost. When we got out into area that was de-occupied, there were many bombed bridges, cut trees, damaged roads, burned tanks.

Finally we reached our village house. It was also very strange. In childhood days, everything was so different, and I always dreamed that I would grow up and live here with my dog. I was thankful that God let me show my puppy the place that I called home. The men in our rehabilitation center were telling of how during occupation, when the people were in the basements, they would ride in on bicycles to the next village to the bread factory and bring bread, under the sound of bullets.

Going into Ukraine during the war, by Skyla Sokol Part 6

The men at the rehabilitation center in our village house helped us sort out all the food into bags, then we went out to go to remote villages. There, people thanked us very much for the food and said that humanitarian air rarely was brought there. And we also gave Samaritans Purse Christmas presents to the children, which brought instant smiles to their somber faces.

One time when we were driving from one village to the next, I saw a strange animal crossing the road, and I forgot all of my common sense and all what dad made me promise and told him to stop the car! He stopped it and I ran after the animal off into the woods. After 3 minutes of its retreating, it turned on me and watched me, saying with its body language if you will come closer, I will fight you. He looked very serious so I decided not mess with him and went back to the car. I do not recall my father saying anything to me, but later I heard my mom say that my dad almost had a heart attack. (These woods were where fightings had occurred and nobody knew what mines could be there (and there were lots of stories of people picking mushrooms or just being in the woods and blowing up accidently were told.) The animal was a porcupine, I later found out, and I’d never seen one before, not even in photos.

Many houses were destroyed, and the people in one village showed us a place where they gathered all the missile parts they could find. When we finished there we also came back to dad’s hometown, and there was his relative; he told us that if we would look on the way into the village, there is a 5-story apartment and one balcony in a corner is blown away. It is because a Ukrainian was there videoing the ruzzians going down the road, and one tank, stopped, turned and fired at him.

Going into Ukraine during the war (March-April, 2022), by Skyla Sokol, Part 7

We wanted to take dad’s mother out of there; she was not handling everything so well, and when she said she didn’t want to go, we told her she could ask someone to come with her, so she took her sister Raya. We planned to take them to Poland. On the way back towards the border with Poland, we stopped at the church where dad was doing the missionary course and stayed there overnight. It was me, Bairo and the two grandmas in one small room. The grandmothers were a little afraid of Bairo so I never left him in there when they were there. My grandma said I will call this dog Bagira because a long time ago my friend had the same type of dog, and his name was Bagira.

By this time I have gotten used to Bairo a bit and if we were in a house I would cook rice, oatmeal and buckwheat with meat for him; if we were on the road, I would give him dog food. When we entered into Poland, we were almost at the monastery that we were taking them to stay, when Raya had a stroke. We drove into the monastery and called the ambulance. They took her away. After a few days when we saw that she was fine, we left our grandma there, and decided to leave for Albania. It had been six weeks.

On the way we stopped at our friends’ house; they were renting an apartment and got jobs in Poland. My father spent the night at their place, but I slept in the car with Bairo. I showered there and made him food for the road.

Everywhere we went, children liked to play with Bairo, and I would let him off leash and they would run and play tag and throw sticks. We were on the long drive back to family, passing through, Slovakia, Hungary, Serbia, Kosovo, Macedonia… And finally into Albania.

When we came home, the Family was much exited to meet the puppy, this is a puppy? He is so big! The place where we rented was not happy about him but they did not say anything. I slept in the car with him for the next few days while we decided what to do.

And, one day our mom thought that we could go live in a refugee camp in Romania for a time. So we packed up, and left.

Midwifery Literature and Art is my favorite. class. ever. I don’t want it to end! Here is a series of small, even silly assignments I’ve done for this class.

Assignment: write 2 haikus

Haiku 1:

Matrescence moments

Then, now, will be. forever

Ever becoming

Haiku 2:

Baby works on down

Wriggling, turning, pressing

Baby knows his way

~~~~~~~~

Assignment: Write 150 words+ in response to this prompt: “A midwife goes on a road trip.”

A midwife goes on a road trip, car packed to the gills. How did it happen? Waiting 9 months to be off call, so many No’s to this time space. Three empty days. A miracle.

A midwife goes on a road trip, to Louisville, Kentucky, to a midwifery conference, where others know her crazy life of so many middle of the night and mid day mini road trips. It’s a life of road trips, but this one’s different, when there’s not a baby at the destination but a conference of fellow midwives.

A midwife goes on a road trip. She sings and cries along the way. For being alone, for being together. For being held after holding so many. She’s lived a thousand lives, and she relives them as she drives. A thousand revolutions of the tires, of the sun, of the babies’ heads, of the lives. Revolutions as repetitions, revolutions as change. Thousands and thousands of road trip revolutions. Her mind revolves.

A midwife goes on a road trip. It means she gets to stop. A road trip of rest. A road trip of not. Of not being on call. Not going to births. Not being with. On the road trip, she gets to be the mom.

A midwife goes on a road trip. She gets to be remade. Redone. Refreshed. Renewed. The revolutions stop. She gets a bed, a break, a breakfast. She gets to sigh, to clap, to cry.

The road trip saves her life.

She goes on, with life.

~~~~~~~

Assignment: Create a list of 8-10 things that bring you happiness.

1. Reading a magazine (like Midwifery Today or Grace Tender)

2. Camping

3. Mountain hiking (not terribly strenuous)

4. Drinking coffee

5. Reading midwifery books for fun!

6. Going to Rembrant’s café with my daughters and/or sister

7. Walking around downtown or at the RiverWalk

8. Cross stitching

9. Petting our dog

10. Posting on FaceBook

11. Writing/journaling

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Assignment: create a fun Certificate of birth keepsake for your clients:

Sadly, I’m close to finishing my favorite class of all time: Midwifery Literature and Art. I’m posting one of my assignments here. I’m supposed to write a “midwifery pet peeve rant:” A 2-paragraph “furious diatribe.” Then, I’m to turn the tables, and write 2 more paragraphs “advocating” for my pet peeve.

Here’s what I wrote:

After returning to the home birth community, I’m noticing a troubling trend associated with the rise of Instagram. Let’s call it the “Instagram Birth Syndrome.” Quite a few women today come to homebirth after seeing a few blissful seconds of Instagram births. And she might not even realize that she doesn’t so much want the *home* birth as much as she wants the *Instagram* birth. But what is that Instagram birth? It’s a few seconds of selected scenes, beautiful, sweet scenes carefully edited and woven together. One might see the woman “breathing” her baby out in the water. Or 30 seconds of photos from a few shots of labor, to the smiles of the baby on the breast.

But something is greatly lacking with birth preparation often consisting of a random flood of Instagram birth images tracking through one’s brain. Are clients committed to the philosophy of home birth? the philosophy of birth’s natural-ness and physiological flow? Do they really know all that birth entails? For the modern woman in a developed country, natural birth is probably the most intense physical challenge she will ever face. Not to mention the overwhelming hormonal/emotional elation usually ending from that process. In most births I attend, birth doesn’t look anything like an Instagram Birth impression. It is loud, it is pain, it is purpose, it’s messy, it is challenge, it is going inside yourself—leaving the world of time and rational thought. For hours. It’s agony and hard, hard work. It’s not something you can really capture on Instagram. Nor the world of hormonal ecstasy that awaits in the hours and days following birth. The complete Ecstasy. It’s strange, getting to the end of a woman’s birth journey with her, realizing that she was expecting the Instagram version of birth, not the unfilmable version of what her birth really was. Most of actual birth would never “make it’ on Instagram.

On the other hand, Instagram has been the greatest modern asset to positive birth change. Women are able to see, with great intimacy, the powerful sacredness of a woman giving birth. Instagram-able images capture something about the special nature of a child being born—it’s no longer hidden away in books, locked away in hospitals; it’s there, in everyone’s face. Birth, in all its power and respect. Midwives honoring women, dads being supported and supportive, birth being honored—to unfold inside the family and home environment, accompanied by beauty and ritual that befits the act of birth.

Instagram has changed the grip of hierarchy and hidden, systematic de-birthing of birth that the medical model enshrined. Instagram has put birth back into women’s hands, literally. They can see and learn from one another in ways that are a bit similar to the old-style community birth, when women gathered around to support the laboring mom. It’s not quite the same, but pretty close.

Is Instagram responsible for “Instagram Birth Syndrome” or is it home birth’s greatest asset? Take your pick. It’s probably both.

Photo: Victoria’s birth on the floor of our living room in Kyiv, 2007.

(This short story was written in fulfillment for a class assignment for Midwifery Literature and Art.)

Another huge explosion pounded into the earth above, and sand sprinkled down the walls. Maria’s eyes darted around the ceiling. Would it hold?

Again. Again and again. It was relentless.

Hers were not the only wrinkled forehead and nervously wringing hands. She slipped her arm around her daughter’s shoulders that hunched over her enormous abdomen. Pregnant! And a child to protect! Woe to them that are with child in those days, flashed into her brain. An enormous boom landed overhead. She gripped Anya’s shoulders tighter, to comfort herself.

Peter, her everything Peter, had snuck out two nights before to check their apartment and search for food. He’d not returned. Maria desperately imagined him, out there, darting through the well-known streets, making plans for them to escape to safety. Safety.

The scraping of the door jolted all their heads up to the basement entrance. Tears sprang to her eyes. It was not Peter but an old neighbor woman. “A car is leaving; there is place for three, but they must hurry.”

The adults looked slowly around the room at each other. A man’s voice took charge of the decision. “Pregnant women and children first,” he declared.

Maria was not the only pregnant woman. Polina was also. “Quickly!” snapped the old woman.   

Maria didn’t move, even though the whole room was looking at her, including little Anya. “But my husband,” she said. “I can’t leave without him!”

“Even if he were here, he wouldn’t go with you,” a woman’s voice reasoned. “When he returns, we’ll tell him that you’ve gone.”

Maria started to shift Anya and move her legs. “But how will he ever find us?”

The old woman at the door bustled over, taking Maria’s bag and blanket. “He’ll call you, don’t worry.”

Maria numbly followed the grey head through the cold cement basement towards the faint light coming through the doorway. Her body felt strange as made these familiar movements, like she was crossing into another dimension; a dull film settled over her brain. A dream, this is just a dream.

“You may just have to deliver this baby in the car, Maria,” Polina said matter-of-factly as they bounced over the potted road. Maria’s attention moved thickly, slowly towards Polina’s words. Some familiar part of her began to surface, the midwife Maria.

She began to make the familiar observations of the midwife: Polina’s face was tight and pale, her body rigid and uncomfortable. Maria heard the contraction begin in her neighbor’s switch to tight, distinct breathing.

Maria mind began to work at the speed of the car. Surely they should not stop for the birth; it was too dangerous. What could she use to catch the fluid and blood so they would not be cold and wet and filthy for the remainder of the trip? The heater eked out a tiny stream of faintly warm air.

It was dark out. Maria’s emotions were back in Mariupol, her beloved, beautiful city; back with her husband—had he returned to the basement already and discovered them gone?

Polina softly groaned and Maria set her lips in a straight line. No time to feel now. Numbness was bliss, survival, a friend.

“Do you have any newspapers or paper . . . for the birth of the baby?” she asked the driver. His nervous eyes met hers in the mirror for a millisecond.  

“We’re coming up to another road block; it’s Ukrainian; I’ll ask them,” he said. Maria noticed his hand trembling as he moved it around the wheel. Not from the baby coming in his backseat, but from the terror of death that seemed to pursue them even here, when the explosions had become inaudible. The cars fleeing along with them were reminders that they were pursued by a pounding, monstrous creature, never satiated by any amount of bones and blood. The creature of war.

The man pushed down on the gas pedal and the little car pushed weakly forward.  

Maria sat like a stone, not having strength to comfort Polina like she usually did a laboring woman. Contractions rolled on. Stone face, bleeding heart. The birth in front of her was not enough to save her. Tears threatened her vision. Her hands shook from a sudden surge of adrenaline. Anger rose to fight for its place.

I can’t leave! Her heart was screaming, dying. I must go back! What are we doing? These children! Mine, hers. They drag me away from what I love, from my own soul!  

It was a rending Maria had never known. She held the anger and adrenaline out to protect herself, for if she felt the true pain of it, she would die.

After a brief stop, the driver stuck a wad of newspapers into the backseat. Anya moved to sit on the lap of the person in the front seat, and Maria awkwardly spread the papers around the seat and floor. A small task to live in, to save her from reality overwhelming her.

Dead. What if Peter is dead? So many dead. Why am I still alive?

The children.

But it was a bitter comfort. A sentence. To live in pain, to face so many breaths, though death would end this pain. To live a dead life for the sake of those who haven’t lived yet.

“God!” her heart gasped. She was in the dark, groping to feel something Living.

A head!

The baby came quickly, mercifully crying softly immediately. Maria crumpled some newspapers and wiped the baby off, getting it covered with Polina’s coat. They stopped to empty the wet newspapers, deal with the afterbirth, and settle Polina and the baby.

Poor Polina. A baby in the car. No smiles, no blankets, pillow, or bed, no gifts or flowers. Just a cold, terrifying ride into the dark.

Maria didn’t touch her enlarged abdomen and the baby inside. She was glad Anya was in the front seat.

She leaned against the window, the cold seeping into her skull, her soul. She saw the moon. The moon. Silent witness to millennia of grief and unspeakable violence.

And with the moon her soul groaned the final prayer, “God.”

As her eyes closed, the whisper came, “This is not your children’s fault; it’s My hand leading you.”

Last month, we moved to my home state of TN, so we could be on furlough and I can continue my apprenticeship and online studies here. I love the homebirth midwifery laws in the state of TN, so I’m very happy to be here, I’m working with a great midwife who works with other great midwives, so I’m gaining lots of experience.

I want to mark down that I observed/helped at a twin birth, and saw one breech birth. I’m so thankful for these experiences! I’m thankful to be exposed to the prenatal care given here, also.

I’m happy to be here!

Midwifery student notes on Guarding the flame of emotional love:

Maybe it’s coming to this as an older person, because I’ve had to do this with other areas of life for long years, I don’t know. But I think often about how I can guard and rekindle my love of midwifery.

Somewhere in all these hard and wonderful years of life, I learned that it’s very important to be specific and intentional about cultivating my emotions. Not to ignore, suppress, lessen or deny them, but to see them as integral to my life, my callings, the grinding jobs I’m just landed with, as well as those jobs I chose and love….

I’ve had to find specific ways to keep my emotions warm and loving towards midwifery and this process and goal I have before me during this season.

Life is, hopefully, a process of distilling out one’s ego and self-interests while at the same time refining and remaining in love with the core of something like midwifery.

Years ago, when I was a teen and 20s, I loved midwifery itself as an identity, as what it gave to me in my search for meaning and identity, while also deeply loving its values. That is a normal stage of life, as one is building a life and building one’s self. But at that time. I loved midwifery more than women–so the priorities and values of midwifery had to be refined in me, which is also a part of education and of life. Over a process of years, of repetitive teaching, and of reevaluating myself over and over. To love midwifery, but to use midwifery in the service of women, not the other way round.

These emotional processes can be essential for healthy longevity. I spend valuable time on this; it’s a need, a pleasure of having a soul.

Some things I do to nurture my flame currently: I remember my own births and how much they affected me; I keep up with homebirth and hospital midwives in Ukraine; I read articles written by midwives who also love and promote the values of midwifery; I find contact with others who feed what I love about this calling.

It helps me so much during this long middle (as Donald Miller puts it)– the long middle of having lost sight of exciting beginning of the process, yet neither is the end in sight yet. It’s easy to get lost in that long middle, to lose my bearings, my flame, my Whys, to lose what I love about Who I’m Becoming in this process. But it’s also necessary in the long middle of life as a midwife.

So here’s to constantly rekindling the flame, the need for constant renewal that God filled the earth with as well as the human soul

“Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.” Lamentations 3:22-23

One of the requirements of training/experience that we’re to fulfill is that of having “continuity of care” clients. These are clients where we do most of their prenatal care, attend their births, do the newborn exam, the postpartum follow-up, etc. It’s quite a bit of work to plan around.

Back in Sept-Oct, I carefully choose 3 women to approach for this, and I was offered a fourth. They were all due in February, each due in each of the weeks of February. So for months, I’ve been meeting with them and anticipating the month of February. So, with their due dates, I was on call from the last week of January through the middle of March.

That’s a long time for me to listen to the rings and dings of my phone, which I usually have on vibrate.

So for months, I’ve been anticipating this month, a long, marathon month of being on call, attending births at any time of the day/night, and doing then all the scheduled follow-up.

And now, February 22, it’s all over. All four births happened in a 16-day time period! Only the follow-up visits are left, and those are already starting to space out nicely. No one was transferred which was a minor miracle. I’ve been praying for these births for all these months, each woman by name.

I want to remember one set of a 3-day marathon–day one, labor, day 2 a birth around 1am, then working prenatals in the morning, then class in the afternoon, then another birth just before midnight. Wow. Midwife life!

It’s been a special month! <3 I’m thankful for God’s timing and help! I’ve not gotten much school work done with all the distraction, but I’ve sure gotten a lot of other special things done 🙂

Thank you, Lord.

This was a great year for midwifery. Looking back over it gives me a lot of fulfillment, even though it was emotionally probably the worst year of my life.

So in 2023, I worked 42 prenatal shifts and 125 birth room shifts (that’s just over 1000 hours in the birth room)–this involves many things: labor care, births, newborn exams, giving injections, and baby meds, charting, filling out birth certificates, doing the newborn screening, postpartum checks galore, and a few other details I’m forgetting.

I also worked in the well-woman area 4 times learning to do Pap smears and gram stains on my own.

I certified in CPR in July and was later moved, along with my class, into primary roles. It feels wonderful to have gone from such incompetence to feeling more comfortable with the myriad of skills we need to learn.

ТИЖДЕНЬ 1: НАДІЯ

Рим. 15:12-13 “І ще каже Ісая: Буде корінь Єссеїв, що постане, щоб панувати над поганами, погани на Нього надіятись будуть! Бог же надії нехай вас наповнить усякою радістю й миром у вірі, щоб ви збагатились надією, силою Духа Святого!”

Іс. 11:1-5 “І вийде Пагінчик із пня Єссеєвого, і Галузка дасть плід із коріння його. І спочине на Нім Дух Господній, дух мудрости й розуму, дух поради й лицарства, дух пізнання та страху Господнього. Його уподобання в страху Господньому, і Він не на погляд очей своїх буде судити, і не на послух ушей Своїх буде рішати, але буде судити убогих за правдою, і правосуддя чинитиме слушно сумирним землі. І вдарить Він землю жезлом Своїх уст, а віддихом губ Своїх смерть заподіє безбожному. І станеться поясом клубів Його справедливість, вірність же поясом стегон Його!”

Іс. 7:10-14 “І Господь далі говорив до Ахаза й казав: Зажадай собі знака від Господа, Бога твого, і зійди глибоко до шеолу, або зійди високо догори! А Ахаз відказав: Не пожадаю я, і не буду спокушувати Господа. І він сказав: Послухайте, доме Давидів, чи мало вам трудити людей, що трудите також Бога мого? Видадуть пах мандрагори, при наших же входах всілякі коштовні плоди, нові та старі, що я їх заховала для тебе, коханий ти мій! Тому Господь Сам дасть вам знака: Ось Діва в утробі зачне, і Сина породить, і назвеш ім’я Йому: Еммануїл.” 

Іс. 9:2, 5-6 “Бо Дитя народилося нам, даний нам Син, і влада на раменах Його, і кликнуть ім’я Йому: Дивний Порадник, Бог сильний, Отець вічности, Князь миру. ⁶ Без кінця буде множитися панування та мир на троні Давида й у царстві його, щоб поставити міцно його й щоб підперти його правосуддям та правдою відтепер й аж навіки, ревність Господа Саваота це зробить!” 

Єр. 3:14-16 “Верніться, діти невірні, говорить Господь, бо Я вам Господар, та візьму вас по одному з міста, а з роду по два, і вас поведу до Сіону! І дам пастирів вам згідно з серцем Своїм, і вони будуть пасти вас умінням та розумом. І буде, коли ви розмножитеся та розплодитеся на землі за цих днів, говорить Господь, не скажуть уже: ковчег заповіту Господнього, і він вже не прийде на серце, і його пам’ятати не будуть, і більше не буде він зроблений…”

week 2: Preparation: Лк. 3:4-6, Михей 5:2; Мт. 2:1-12
Week 3: JOY: Лк. 2: 7-15, Рим. 15:4-13, Мт. 1:18-25, Лк. 1:26-38
Week 4: LOVE: Иоанна 3:16-17. Иоання 1:1-3, 14, Лк 21:25-36, Еф. 2:12-22
Christmas Day: Псалом 100, Лк 2:8-20, Отк. 3:20-21.

тиждень 2 підготовка

“як написано в книзі пророцтва пророка Ісаї: Голос того, хто кличе: У пустині готуйте дорогу для Господа, рівняйте стежки Йому! Нехай кожна долина наповниться, гора ж кожна та пригорок знизиться, що нерівне, нехай випростовується, а дороги вибоїсті стануть гладенькі, і кожна людина побачить Боже спасіння!” Лк 3:4-6

Михей 5:1 (5:2) “А ти, Віфлеєме-Єфрате, хоч малий ти у тисячах Юди, із тебе Мені вийде Той, що буде Владика в Ізраїлі, і віддавна постання Його, від днів віковічних.”

Мт 2:1-12 “Коли ж народився Ісус у Віфлеємі Юдейськім, за днів царя Ірода, то ось мудреці прибули до Єрусалиму зо сходу, і питали: Де народжений Цар Юдейський? Бо на сході ми бачили зорю Його, і прибули поклонитись Йому. І, як зачув це цар Ірод, занепокоївся, і з ним увесь Єрусалим. І, зібравши всіх первосвящеників і книжників людських, він випитував у них, де має Христос народитись? Вони ж відказали йому: У Віфлеємі Юдейськім, бо в пророка написано так: І ти, Віфлеєме, земле Юдина, не менший нічим між осадами Юдиними, бо з тебе з’явиться Вождь, що буде Він пасти народ Мій ізраїльський. Тоді Ірод покликав таємно отих мудреців, і докладно випитував їх про час, коли з’явилась зоря. І він відіслав їх до Віфлеєму, говорячи: Ідіть, і пильно розвідайтеся про Дитятко; а як знайдете, сповістіть мене, щоб і я міг піти й поклонитись Йому. Вони ж царя вислухали й відійшли. І ось зоря, що на сході вони її бачили, ішла перед ними, аж прийшла й стала зверху, де Дитятко було. А бачивши зорю, вони надзвичайно зраділи. І, ввійшовши до дому, знайшли там Дитятко з Марією, Його матір’ю. І вони впали ницьма, і вклонились Йому. І, відчинивши скарбниці свої, піднесли Йому свої дари: золото, ладан та смирну. А вві сні остережені, щоб не вертатись до Ірода, відійшли вони іншим шляхом до своєї землі.”

Exercise during pregnancy 

Regular exercise is important at all stages of life. When you’re pregnant, regular, moderate exercise can help you feel better and enhance your social life; it can possibly help your labor go faster; regular moderate exercise can also lessen your chances of labor interventions, of needing a C-section, or of experiencing preterm delivery.   

 Here are a few guidelines I’ve gleaned that you can add to your own common sense. And during our prenatal visits, let’s talk about what kinds of activities your already doing or might want to try.   

 Guidelines:  

• Be sure you’re adding calories, water, and nutrition to your diet if you’re exercising.   
• Warm up and cool down; include gentle, careful stretching when you cool down.   
• When rising from the floor, go slowly.   
• Walking and swimming are good forms of exercise.   
• During pregnancy, avoid scuba diving and exercising at very high altitudes.   
• Don’t exercise to exhaustion, stop if you get tired. While exercising, your own sense of how you feel is the best judge what is enough or too much. During pregnancy, don’t push yourself to achieve higher goals, rather, use exercise as a form of supporting yourself.   
• Don’t lie on your back to exercise. Don’t pull yourself up using your abdominal muscles.   
• Go gently. Avoid exercises that require jumping, jerky motions, speed, etc. The pregnant body has a different load balance because of the heavy uterus, so move carefully. Be careful of your muscles, tendons and ligaments—pregnancy is a special time when hormones loosen the joints, and having a heavy uterus can strain the body and alter the posture in specific ways.   
• No exercises that might cause abdominal trauma or can cause you to fall.   
• No exercises that require you to hold your breath and bear down.  
• Stop immediately if you feel unusual sensations or pain.   
• 30 minutes of moderate exercise (like walking or swimming) a day is a good amount. Don’t overdo.   
• Stop exercising and re-evaluate your situation with your midwife or doctor if you are spotting, if your cervix is opening preterm, or if your baby is not growing normally.   
• Don’t exercise if you have a fever.   

Sources:  

Frye, A. (1998). In Holistic Midwifery: Care during pregnancy (2nd ed., Vol. 1, pp. 262–264). essay, Labrys Press.  

Sinclair, C. (2004). In A midwife’s handbook (pp. 47–48). essay, Saunders.