I'm thrilled to announce Olive Tree Birthing's new offering for 2017. Beginning Tuesday, January 17, Olive Tree Birthing will be facilitating conversation using Renée Peterson Trudeau's book The Mother's Guide to Self-Renewal: How to Reclaim, Rejuvenate and Re-Balance Your Life. 

Imagine...gathering with the same group of women monthly, sharing your musings and your experiences, all in a safe and supportive environment. In between our monthly gatherings, you will spend time reading the opening text in each chapter, completing guided journaling exercises, carry out a suggested Take Action activity, and choose from suggested self-renewal tips for the month. 

To support the needs of the women in the group, it is encouraged you be able to attend most Self-Renewal gatherings. To keep things simple, Olive Tree's Self-Renewal Group will be offered the third Tuesday of the month, from 6:30-8:30pm.* see bottom of post for specific dates

We will meet at a variety of places, depending on the preferences of the group or changing needs of those involved. We will brainstorm places to meet, some of which may include: local parks, nature preserves, facilitator's home, participants' homes and community centers. 

To help provide space and time for you, I ask that only babes-in-arms attend, however you know your child(ren)'s needs best, and you may ultimately decide whether you can be apart during the monthly gathering. 

What will all this cost you? Nothing! Because I'm not an RTA-Certified Facilitator, I cannot legally charge for you to be part of this group. We will share the responsibility of providing snacks and you will be responsible for purchasing your book for the group. 

So, what's next? Well, if you're interested in registering, you may do so here.

Dates (Third Tuesday of the month, 6:30-8:30pm)
Jan. 17
Feb. 21
Mar. 21
Apr. 18
May 16
Jun. 20
Jul. 18
Aug. 15
Sep. 19
Oct. 17
Nov. 21
Dec. 19

Oh my gosh!! Yes! In nine months, all my preparing (emotional-physical-logistical) is going to pay off and I will begin this incredible adventure! I've read about it, visited blogs and websites, watched videos, all in hopes of feeling ready. I've never done this before, so I really don't know what to expect. Will I feel prepared? Will my plan work out? Will my body do what it needs to do? What if it all feels so impossible? Do I have everything I'll need? I have to make so many decisions ahead of time and I don't even know what it will be like!? 

Have you ever felt this way? Maybe this all sounds familiar? During pregnancy, we often times feel like we're preparing for something blindly. We're reading books, visiting countless pregnancy support websites and online groups, watching birth videos and vlogs. Maybe we're attending yoga classes, meeting with a birth doula, chatting with friends and family about "the big day". 

It may feel like we're doing all this work and preparation for an experience that may or may not unfold as we're expecting. And in many ways, yes, you are doing all this work and preparation for an experience that may or many not unfold as you expect. But in the process, you're doing so much more than simply "making your plan". 

As you prepare for labor and birth, you're thinking about the details and in turn, forming opinions on what may or may not be suggested. You're thinking about how you may feel if labor feels too challenging. You're thinking about how you may react if your doctor recommends a cesarean birth instead of the vaginal birth you've been planning for. You're thinking about what items you want to have with you, who you will turn to for support, even whether you'll listen to music or what you may want to wear. 

As a birth doula, childbirth educator and mom, I feel familiar with those thoughts, emotions and questions. In my professional roles, I'm looking at it from the perspective of someone who cares for and supports the laboring mother's needs, in addition to the needs of her birth partner. Approaching her labor and birth from a professional role means that I fully understand that her birth is HER BIRTH. I can remove myself from the intimate emotional experience, mostly, because she is the woman doing the work. This is not to say I don't feel emotionally connected to her or her birth, but supporting the work is very different from actually doing the work of labor and birth. As a mom, I remember those feelings during the months leading up to my children's due dates- the unknowns, the questions, the curiosities. 

The first paragraph, even though it could be used to describe how I felt leading up to my children's births, refers to my months leading up to my planned bicycle ride from Virginia to Oregon. I shared with everyone I knew (and those I didn't, via my blog) that I was going to ride my bicycle more than 4,000 miles over the course of a summer. I shared my curiosities, but I mostly stayed on the side of feeling confident that I would meet this incredible goal. 

As I communicated with others about my ride, it reminded me of how I spoke of my children's anticipated births. In the months leading up to their births, I had developed my preferences and expressed my hopes for  my birth experiences. Before my oldest child's birth, I was well aware that I HAD NEVER GIVEN BIRTH BEFORE! THIS WAS ALL NEW!! I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT IT WILL FEEL LIKE!! And others reminded me of these facts, as well, especially when topics like pain medication or breastfeeding came up. On days where I felt good, I could brush off others' negative experiences, reminding myself that THEIR experience would not necessarily be MY experience. But on days where I doubted myself and felt overwhelmed by it all, I would think, WHAT AM I THINKING?! I'VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE?! 

Preparing to leave on my bicycle adventure, I was met with so much support. Some asked questions or expressed concern, but for the most part, people shared their encouragement. Hearing others' enthusiasm made me feel so well supported and I could almost feel myself cycling to the peak of a mountain or seeing the Pacific Ocean! 

I'll write more about the actual cycling experience in upcoming posts, but for now, think about what you're saying or doing to provide support to those in your life that are preparing for their upcoming adventure or life experience. Are you compassionate? Caring? Curious enough to ask questions rather than project your worries or your own experience on them? Do you ask them, how can I support you? What do you need?

If you're preparing for your own adventure or life experience, what does that entail? How do you gather that support? How do you prepare for your unknowns? What are you telling yourself, in terms of how you will do (physically, emotionally, mentally)? Are there resources in your community or online that you can tap into so you don't feel like you have to figure it all out on your own? 

Looking forward to sharing more with you in upcoming posts about my discoveries on the road and how it always came back to labor, birth and mothering. 

Being a birth doula, I often times need to know what the next 9 months hold, in terms of family vacations, weekend getaways, and the like. Essentially, if I'm not going to be in town, I like to know in advance so that when I interview with a family, I can let them know if I'm planning on being out of town close to their due date. Sure, I arrange for a back-up doula, but when I spend time prenatally with a family and they've asked me to be part of their birth team, being with them is my priority. Short of being too sick to be around a laboring mother and new baby or a death in my family, I plan on being with the family at the time they ask me to join them in labor. 

You may already know that I'm going to be out of town this summer, returning at the end of July. I will be gone 8-10 weeks, and when I return, I very much want to be present for my family in a predictable way. Being a birth doula, as you can imagine, is anything but predictable. 

Though I love being with a family when they're working so hard to meet their baby, I'm stepping back from providing labor support until the new year. Giving myself and my family a more predictable schedule feels only right, given my summer away. 

I will continue to teach childbirth education classes, and I'm available for private classes and consultations. I'll be available to arrange appointments when I'm back, so please let me know if you're interested in setting something up after August. 

Thanks to all the families with whom I've worked. It's been such an honor and pleasure. 

How many times do we look ahead to an anticipated event, and all we can do is spend our time dwelling on the unknown. Even when we have happy moments that we look ahead to, such as a wedding, vacation or graduation, we seem to live in limbo. We can't wait for that day to arrive, and yet we have a lot of todays to live. 

When you're expecting a baby, or even waiting for that positive pregnancy test, it's easy to look ahead into the future and just feel like you're w-a-i-t-i-n-g for the day to finally get here, the one you've been thinking about for months (or years!). 

I am living that life of limbo right now. I have really great ways to pass my days; I love my work, my family keeps me busy and entertained, and there never seems to be a shortage of chores and errands to tend to. 

You may also know that I'm preparing to ride my bicycle from one end of the country to the other. I have less than four weeks before I leave (I might have just gasped when I wrote that). I am also no longer on-call for birth doula work, which means that my energy and attention is fully in "go-mode" in regard to my bicycle trip. 

But the thing is, I'm still a fully participating member of my family until I fly out in mid-May. I'm responsible for not only taking care of my bicycle preparations, but the care of my family and home, as well. That's not to say I do this on my own; my husband and I share pretty equally in our family and home responsibilities. I am still here, surrounded by end-of-school-year events for my children, laundry that never seems to quite be finished, bills that have to be paid. I still have lots of todays to live and manage. I have cabinets I want to organize, floors I want to clean, notes I want to make about our garden and general notes about the things I tend to take responsibility for, such as well-check appointments, prep for camp, and deep cleaning bathroom chores. 

I have this day I've been thinking about, the day I fly out east, and then I have this whole summer where I'm thinking about the challenges and joys I'll experience. But if I keep my focus on those things, I will most definitely regret all of the todays I missed out on. 

For the last several months, I've been planning my bicycle adventure to Oregon. I did a practice ride last fall, and I have spent many hours looking over my maps, googling the camping options and local sites. 

Preparing to leave in six weeks brings me back to the time when I was excitedly anticipating the births of each of my children, though this time I know exactly when I'm flying out to Virginia to begin my ride. I can't say I had the promise of such an exact time when I was eager to meet my babies! 

When I say, I have six weeks left, I think about how I feel when I know I have a limited amount of time before I embark on this adventure. This is much like when I knew I had a finite amount of time before my family welcomed a new baby; there was so much to do! I was so ready! I needed more time! Why hadn't I taken advantage of the many months prior to this 6-weeks-left mark?! 

I also am grappling with the idea that I've publicly shared my lofty goal to bicycle across America, though there is nothing that is guaranteeing me a certain experience or outcome. When I was expecting my children, I don't remember if I shared my preference for a certain birth or experience. But for many women, it can feel daunting to confidently proclaim she WILL HAVE her desired birth without deviating from her plan. And as a birth doula, I encourage the families with whom I work to learn about and understand why interventions may be suggested or perhaps preferable. Because, we never know how birth will unfold, even for the woman that has done "everything" she could to have a certain experience. 

So, here I am, soon to be flying out to Virginia to begin my bicycle ride. I could tell myself that I will most definitely meet my goals and expectations. I could give myself some space to stop before I reach Oregon, knowing that I "may not be able to do it." But honestly, right now, I'm at a place where I am visualizing riding on that first day, away from the Atlantic Ocean and headed towards the Pacific. I am imagining days where I'm just so exhausted, wondering why I even schemed up this ride. I can picture crying myself to sleep, as I think about my children and husband. And the best thoughts include cycling into camp at the end of the day, feeling proud of my body and my perseverance. 

Much like birth, I thought about how it would feel to hold my baby at the end of labor. I imagined looking down at my child's face, seeing this new person for the first time. I dreamt about how wonderful it would feel to welcome this sweet soul into our family. With cycling, I think about the end goal, whether it be the end of a day, a week's worth of riding, or the end of my 10-week (?) adventure. 

With six weeks left, I know that I have a lifetime before I leave as well as a blink of an eye. This time is sacred and I'm so grateful to even be in this position to dream about sunsets over mountain passes and the smell of the ocean air as I ride into my final destination. 

Interested in following my ride? I am keeping a blog at amybikes.com, and I would love to share with you my joys and challenges. Want to mail me a letter or a care package? Email me and I'll be sure to send you my mail drop information. 

My son threw up early this morning.

He came into our bedroom and in the saddest voice, told me that he had a headache and his stomach hurt. Instantly, I was awake. I helped settle him on the couch, placed a bucket nearby, offered him some medicine to help his headache and told him to call to me if he needed anything. 

Sure enough, less than an hour later, I hear him throwing up, calling for me in between moments of sickness. Living in a small bungalow and our bedroom steps away from the living room, I was at his side quickly. Once he was cleaned up and feeling a little more comfortable, I pulled his twin mattress out to the living room to be close by. 

I lay there, listening to his breath and deciphering his noises. I would hear him move, and I'd open one eye to see whether he was hunched over the bucket or simply turning in his sleep. This continued until I had fallen back asleep, only to be woken to my youngest looking for me and my husband getting ready for work. 

It was so hard, knowing that I couldn't really do anything to take away my son's discomfort. I could sit with him, offer him water, offer reassurance. But I couldn't do anything to take away his tummy ache or feeling of sickness. In that way, I felt so helpless. 

How many times do we just want to "take it away", so someone else doesn't have to feel ill or sad or disappointed? How many of those times do we have to accept our limitations? How many of those times do we have to trust the process, even if the process is full of pain, heartache or loss? 

It is not easy to sit by and watch someone experience difficulty or disappointment. But is that for us to "fix"? How many times have you shared that you simply want to be heard, rather than be offered a solution for your ailment or challenge? How do we simply "be" with those we love, even in the face of turmoil? And is there a time when we must step in to assist or provide a solution, and how do we know that time has come? 

It's not easy to know what to do and when and how and for how long. It's not easy to be with others when we know they're hurting. But watching, listening, and being tuned in can help us decipher when we must "be" and when we may be helpful through "doing". 

 On a bitter-cold evening, I had the pleasure of sitting with new parents. They were part of my first childbirth education series offered out of my home through Olive Tree Birthing, and I was thrilled to see them walk into my living room, holding their babies. 

As I listened and watched and sat, I couldn't help but smile as I remembered the mamas sitting in my living room, pregnant bellies and curious wonderings for how their birth stories would unfold. I think about the papas, so supportive of their partner's preferences and eager to learn ways to help her during the stages of labor. 

After these lovely families returned to their homes, I thought back to the many families with whom I've worked, all the way back to November 2008 when I first had the honor of being with a family as they prepared to meet their baby. I think about the countless families that walked through the doors of Bloomington Area Birth Services, eased themselves into the comfortable couches and chairs, and prepared to meet their babies. I taught with knowledgable and caring women, dedicated to providing information and support during this transitional time. 

I have seen many of these families throughout my years in Bloomington. Some families have moved away, and I have the pleasure of watching their child (or children!) grow via Facebook. And there are also so many others that have gone their own way, raising their family in another town, state or even country. 

What I may not communicate well, is that I remember each of these families. Some memories are not as strong, having only interacted once or twice, perhaps, as someone came into BABS for prenatal yoga. Others, I have this invisible thread that loops around my wrist and back to them, having witnessed the birth of their baby, the birth of their newly defined family. 

I read the birth stories I have given to the families with whom I've worked, and I am brought back to the day (or night) when their sweet, new person arrived. 

Let me say, these births are not about me or even how they make me feel! I am there for you, to provide the support you seek. I am there for your birth partner, too, sharing reassurance and guidance. 

So, if you see me out and about in town, please say hello! And if you're no longer living here, please share a picture of your (now bigger!) child! I love to see how these new people grow into big kids. 

image from Nikki McClure's 2015 Calendar
visit buyolympia to see more

I've turned the calendar from January to February. A month has passed since I've transitioned from 2015 to 2016. We've packed away the lights and ornaments. I've both turned up the heat and added layers to stay warm on cold days and thrown open the windows to get fresh, mild air through our home. 

As you look ahead to the coming months, what transitions are you anticipating? How are you setting yourself up for a supportive and positive experience? Do you know what resources are available? Are you one to plan ahead or figure it out in the moment? 

My calendar is filled with classes, Mothers' Circles, prenatal and postpartum doula client visits, and more. All of this feels good, and yet there's no way I can do any of it without proper support. In order to feel well-prepared, there's a decent amount of preparation involved, not only to support my work but to support the needs of my family, as well. 

How does this look? Well, part of feeling well-supported and prepared means knowing what is available. If I list out my challenges, then I take into consideration what resources are available. I also look at my whole self and address my emotional, physical, spiritual and mental needs. Taking time to consider my needs requires me to look deep at what's working and what's not working well. I celebrate the good and I consider how to support the changes that I may need to make. 

Maybe for you, this includes making time to meditate, stretch your body, or sit with friends. Or maybe you need to be more gentle with your new role as "mom" or your growing body as you move closer to your baby's birth. Perhaps you are trying to continue all the responsibilities you carried before any of these new changes, and to get to a balanced place, you may need to reconsider what you can actually do today. 

A lot of what I'm continuing to learn is the idea that whatever is happening now, is part of a phase. We sometimes look at where we are in life (i.e., our job, our hometown, our interests) as being constant. But those "constants" have more variability than we may be ready to admit. And sometimes these "constants" require us to take a step back and reevaluate whether it's still serving us well. 

Taking a look at what we need, what resources are available to support those needs, and reevaluating who we are is part of your journey. You will know when you're ready for this, and you will know how often you have to revisit these questions. 

Know that you are not alone in your challenges, and that you're not alone in your joys. Olive Tree Birthing's Mothers' Circles offer you an opportunity to find support and community. Contact me to learn more or to register. 

It's the time of year where I look around and think, look at how my surroundings have changed! All these trees had lush green leaves which turned into golden and red hues, and now everything looks bare. Sometimes this shift in landscape makes me feel settled, moving inward and craving activities that happen when you're "stuck inside". Other times I look and feel a little sadness over the loss of obvious life that we see in the growing seasons. 

But, here's the thing, those trees and plants are still alive. There's still this energy that flows from the ground to the plant to the air and back again. Only now, it takes looking at it differently to appreciate it. Does that resonate with you, the idea that sometimes you have to come at the stage of life you're in (or your child's stage) at a different angle in order to appreciate it and see the beauty? 

This is not one of those posts where I believe you have to love life and love your child's hardest days and golly gee, aren't we lucky and #blessed?! Instead, I'm suggesting that when I've taken a moment (or let the idea work on me all day) to see the energy in where I am in my life's journey, I see value in the moment or experience. 

Yes, it can feel super hard to transition from one stage of pregnancy or stage of development to the next. But for most, even in our hardest days and toughest moments, the energy of the experience brings value. I didn't say it brings joy or happiness, but instead I'm focusing on the value of the moment. It has worth and importance, and we can either use it or let it fall to the side. 

Being outside and letting it be what it is, nothing more nothing less, helps me in my journey. I may want the forest canopy to be lush and full, but it's not the stage of nature right now. Instead, look at what is visible with the absence of foliage. Look at the world as it is, instead of what you're missing or wanting. There's value to it, and next time you're outside, notice where you are in your life's journey. 

When I look back at the families with whom I've worked, there are some stories that I still wonder how things could have unfolded differently. This happens after a "straightforward" labor makes a detour and birth happens in a surgical setting instead of the labor and delivery room. This happens after a home birth transfers to the hospital. This happens after a baby remains breech, in spite of the mother trying different techniques to help baby flip head down. This happens after the transition stage of labor stretches on, longer than anticipated, and it's many hours before she's fully dilated. 

It's not that I think these stories are any less sacred and special. It's not that I believe unmedicated vaginal births are the only way to birth. It's not that I see myself as the gatekeeper to "good" births. 

Not at all. 

Instead, there are simply times where the anticipated journey veers off course, and everyone on the birth team has to take a step back and figure out "now what?".

In response to these feelings, I was deeply curious about ways to better support these journeys. I wanted to bring more to the birthing setting, supporting the laboring mother with suggestions, information, encouragement. I was thrilled when the opportunity arose, and I started to learn more about the "bigger picture". 

Melissa Larimer, Certified Massage Therapist (along with many other trainings and certifications) offered the birth community the opportunity to expand our knowledge base in order to better support the families with whom we work. She spent hours in afternoon trainings, helping us understand the different ways birth unfolds and ways we can support the birth process. 

One of the resources she referenced was the work by Gail Tully, of Spinning Babies. Spinning Babies looks at the mother's anatomy, the baby's positioning, the mother's movements and positions during pregnancy and labor, and the birth process and provides techniques and information to support healthy birth. 

Talking with Melissa and learning from her gifted me more "tools" to use during births. And I'm thrilled Melissa will be joining Mothers' Circle on Sunday, November 8, 3:30-5pm to share her expertise. This Circle is appropriate for expectant moms, moms healing from birth in the last year (vaginal or cesarean), and moms thinking about another pregnancy, regardless of age of older child(ren). 

Did you have a birth that maybe didn't unfold as anticipated, one where Baby was posterior, a rim of cervix remained for many hours, or you had a cesarean birth? Are you healing from birth and interested in learning ways to support your pelvic health? Or maybe you're just a little uncertain about what pelvic health entails and want to learn more about your body? 

Maybe you're a mom and interested in community, and Mothers' Circle calls out to you? 

Whatever the reason, register today for Mothers' Circle with Melissa Larimer. We'll have snacks, you'll meet other women, and you will spend time in a comfortable, supportive environment as you journey along in pregnancy or motherhood. 

Call or email to register. You can see more details in the "Other Services" section of this site. 

Melissa Larimer with local birth workers Anna Weigand, RN & Linnea Mugford, CD