Not Your Average "Joe Kegel"

I feel the need for a light-hearted anecdote this morning.  I have a running list of top 5 memorable moments from my teaching.   Most of them are humorous, and I can’t wait to share one of them with you. So let’s jump in.  

I was teaching my first large group of Amish couples (9 pairs, 18 people) and it was our first night of class.  My stomach was in knots that afternoon in anticipation of the large crowd.  The content I cover the first night is quite basic.

• ·          Anatomy of pregnancy
• ·          Nutrition
• ·         Birth Planning
• ·         Prenatal exercise

Within the first hour of meeting a room full of Amish young adults I am knee high in nervous tension while discussing body parts. Standing in front of them armed with large anatomic drawings, we go over how a woman’s body gets pregnant and changes during that pregnancy.  Oh the horror of saying the words breast, cervix, vagina (I still often chicken out and say birth canal) in front of this group of socially modest and often innocent 20 somethings.

After we have dredged through that first nervous hour of anatomy we break for snacks.  *Communal sigh of relief* it isn't so bad really.  By then I've assessed who is listening, who doesn't want to be there, who is enjoying (yes enjoying) the presentation.  Eye contact, shy smiles and head nods- I thrive on the subtlest sign of affirmation.  Feet shuffling, staring into the bottom of an empty coffee cup, blank stares or arms crossed- all signs I've got my work cut out for me.  Most groups are a mix of affirmation and anxiety.

This night, there is one lively man in the bunch.  Quick witted and bold in his comebacks Joe’s manner puts us all at ease.  He’s chuckling, smiling and nodding along.  His wife has rolled her eyes at him at least 4 times within our first hour of class.  I love this man!  He has no idea how much his humor sets me at ease and it is obvious that the other couples relax with each of his wisecracks. 

In the second hour of class I focus on caring for self during the pregnancy.  We discuss nutrition and prenatal exercises.  And the moment has arrived, the dreaded moment when I have to describe a Kegel.  By now I’ve covered the anatomy of the pelvic floor.  I pick up my pelvis model and cup my hand under it to remind them again what muscles I am talking about.  The written material in the book has a few sketches of tight versus loose pelvic floor muscles.  I point out the differences and make a few comments about peeing when you cough or sneeze.  They likely sense my discomfort, but I push forward.  Once I've been through the whole bit I’m ready to move forward. 

In case your not familiar with a Kegel.

Joe raises his hand. Of course, Joe has a question. No one ever has questions ever, especially not about this.  “Yes Joe?” I say hesitantly. “It says here in the book that men can do this exercise too.” He is beaming at me, goading me to respond.  I wait, I’m gonna make him say it.  “So how does that work?” he says.

Is this really happening? My mind races, never have I encountered an Amish man so bold.  He is asking how he does a Kegel exercise with his penis!  Deep breath and I throw a joke back asking him to work on that for homework and come back and give us a report.  He laughs pleased with my response.  At that moment I realize I have passed some kind of test of his. 

Quickly I move on to the next topic. I’m in the home stretch now almost 8:30 and time to wrap up.  I close up and instruct everyone to return the following week, bring their books etc.  Joe raises his hand but doesn't wait for me to respond.

“I’m doing them right now-the Kegels, I figured it out.  You want me to share?” Roars of laughter erupt around the circle.  Poor Lisa’s face is bright red. Her elbow jabs his ribs hard, scolding his boldness.  “Sorry Joe we are out of time, you’ll have to share later.” I manage.

Over the years since this class I have come to know that Joe has a bit of a reputation for his bold sense of humor.  It’s his heritage actually.  He is part of a Yoder clan that is notorious for their pranks, jokes and antics.  His little girl cousin visits my house and has a catalog of her favorite Joe moments.  Too bad she is seven and I can’t fully share my favorite moment with “Joe Kegel”.  

Breaking The Rule and Making Friends

Our children enjoy a friendship as well. 

As I look over my upcoming commitments on the calendar I realize that the two events I most anticipate are gatherings with good friends.  These good friends are both women I met through my birth work.  From the outside they couldn't look more different.  One Amish the other a Doctor of Psychology, both cherished friends. 

There comes a moment after the birth and postpartum work of a birthworker is done where you have to make a decision.  “Will I see this woman again?”  Often it’s a complex sorting full of emotion and sentimentality.  I witnessed some of the most vulnerable and difficult moments in her life.  There was that moment of transformation and victory birth can bring. If that doesn’t create a bond what does?  The problem is that the bond is based on a professional relationship.  One where I carefully lay boundaries, and try to keep clients separate from my personal life.  Boundaries are the way to prevent burn out.  I am aware of what energy I can give a client and what I have to hold back for myself and my family.  So I have an unwritten rule for myself,  NO COLLECTING OF FRIENDS.  Casual and friendly is fine, but ongoing growth into my personal life kind of friendships I can’t maintain. Except with these two women I somehow sidestepped my own rule.  And I’m glad I did.

I first met Stef when I snuck into her house in the middle of the night.  She was laboring with her second daughter and I had been summoned as the midwife’s assistant for the home birth.  When I entered the darkened home, the candles were lit and it felt peaceful.  Stef was naked, or nearly so, seated on a birth ball in her living room.  She was surrounded by her husband and mother and sister in law.  She was laboring beautifully.  I will never forget how lovely she looked.  “She looks just like I do” I thought to myself and she was naked and she wasn't ashamed. This took me aback.  Granted she was in labor at the time so that helps with one’s inhibitions.  And for the record every time I've seen her since she’s been fully clothed.  Still I remember seeing her beauty in our size of a body and feeling washed over with appreciation.  Side note:  When you are a size 14-18 woman there isn't a lot of imagery in our culture that you can identify with and have the same kind of positive feeling.

A few months after the birth I sent her a note telling her about my impressions.  I wanted to reflect back to her what I had observed, hoping I was offering her a gift.  That was the first inroad to our friendship. 

We began getting together for drinks and delicious food on what felt like dates.  We weren't romantic of course, but we really didn't know each other well.  The night of her daughter’s birth didn't involve much small talk.  I got nervous before our outings and wondered what I should wear, what will we talk about.  That all faded of course as we got together more often and began to get to know each other.  She and I are more than the check list of same and differences.  She is so caring and a good listener, and I appreciate her perspective.

A year or so into our friendship, I had a miscarriage.  I was devastated.  Stef was the friend who supported me through that.  The tables had turned and she was assisting me through a physically and emotionally challenging time.  Her attention to detail and inquiry into my grief was just right.  I will forever be thankful for it.  That event balanced us out somehow. 

Velda and I meet over coffee at her kitchen table several times a month.  Our children make loud rucus in the background while the rhythm of our talk carries over top the noise.  Being Amish, a big part of her life are the domestic tasks of child rearing and homemaking.  And she is good at it.  We talk recipes and share stories of naughty children and clueless husbands. My interaction with her feeds that part of my life which I find quite lonely.  I enjoy my days at home with my son and maintaining a place for my family to be nourished and feel safe, but I feel isolated sometimes.  Velda understands that, and wants to know about it. And we laugh, through frustrations, through hard times, there is always laughter when I am with Velda.  

On the surface there are so many obstacles to our friendship.  For example communicating: we send letters in the mail, handwritten letters.  She is hard to get a hold of directly on the phone so I leave voice mails.  I can’t text her or leave her a Facebook message.  Getting together has to be planned out way in advance or I just stop in hoping she has an hour to visit.  She can handle our differences, large and small, and I am learning that I can too.  Theology, marriage, body image- when we talk, we go there, we hash it out.  Maybe we are free to be real with each other because of our differences.  There isn't much other cross over in our personal lives.  I trust what I tell her stays in her home and she feels the respect I have for her and her way of life. 

I remember the moment when I realized Velda and I could really become good friends. “We are all the same underneath our cloths,  Amish & English.”  she said with a knowing smile. (English is what the Amish call non-Amish people because that is what we speak, not because it is our country of origin.) She meant that our person hood is more than what we look like on the outside.  We all struggle, get discouraged, worry and make mistakes.  This kind of insight is classic Velda, simply spoken and terribly true.  Just an hour at her kitchen table over coffee lifts my spirits and pulls me through the day.

I see myself as someone who always follows the rules, at least the rules according to me. Led by intuition mostly, and its brought me two rich life giving friendships.  It takes some intention to reset the balance, I have to let them in and get to know the real me.  I have to take a turn at being vulnerable.  Thank you Stef and Velda for rewarding my risk with your friendship.  

Preach it!

On the third night of three classes the topic at hand is labor support.  As a doula with hours of experience I find this night the most enjoyable.  I have lots of entertaining examples that get people laughing.  By our third night together everyone is more comfortable with each other and they know what to expect from me.  (I should say as a bit of a disclaimer here that my clients in classes are almost always married and heterosexual, so I am going to refer to husband instead of the more inclusive partner cause that’s my audience when I give this talk.)

About six months ago I found myself starting to talk about a little discussed detail of the childbirth process.  This detail is the opportunity for growth in a marriage that awaits the expectant couple.  When a husband and wife journey through a labor to birth together it is an opportunity for them to reach a new level of trust and intimacy.  Over the years of listening to women reflect on their births,  I notice this theme emerge.  Vital to how they experienced their birth is how their partner supported and responded to their needs.   It is the base on which her memory of labor/birth is built.  Women with short, easy labors whose husbands worried more about the thermostat than holding her hand reflect on the disappointment and abandonment by their partner.  Not the ease and gift of a short labor.

Fellow birth workers, is there anything more beautiful than to see a partner support and self-sacrifice to accompany their loved one through the long hard hours of work all to see the tears of relief at the birth of their child?  This gift is obscure in our culture. Though addressed in labor support information, it isn’t spoken loud enough in my opinion.

I am convinced now more than ever that the love and care a woman receives while she is at her most vulnerable is so important.  So I preach it.

“I’m gonna get a little preachy here for a minute guys.” Is my intro before I launch in.  “When your wife is in labor and birthing your child it is a rare opportunity for you as a husband to show her how much you love her.”  The men shift in their seats, but I’ve got their attention.  “When a woman is in labor she is vulnerable in a way that doesn’t happen every day.”

 I turn to the women then and say, “so let yourself be vulnerable, cared for, consoled. Give him a chance to care for you in a very special way.”  Back to the men, “no matter how nervous or scared you may be men, care. for. her.  Hold her hand, tell her you love her, wipe her brow, fuss over her, leave no doubt that you are present in that moment with her.”

 Then I ease in some humor, “Fellas I don’t want to hear tales later about how you slept on the cot, watched the baskeball game on tv, or played your DS.”  They laugh a bit and it eases the intensity of it all.  By now the women are pink cheeked and stealing looks at their husbands, reaching over to hold their hand.  It is working!  I am setting the expectation level high, I am speaking for her. What she wants to say but doesn’t know how.  I am a figure of respect and authority on the topic and they are eating it up.  Dramatic pause for a long breath…

“Often after a birth the husband holds a new respect for the strength of his wife, men I want your wife to have a new respect for you in how you love her.”  BAM!  a great closer.  “Okay, sermon over.”
*smile and sigh*

When I check in, the non-verbals are strong.  Smiles, glances across the room, sips of coffee in anticipation of what I am going to lay on them next.  They are listening and it is soaking in.

My presentation continues on with clear ideas of how to give this care that I have now led their wives to expect.

 The list is short and I’m no pioneer in putting it together:

1.       Listen to her 

2.       Talk to her 

3.       Be there for her

4.       Touch her

With each task I give examples.  I have a basket of “tools” that they can use.  A hot water bottle, fuzzy socks, lotion, chap stick.  Yep its that simple, “Really guys it’s the little things that add up over the hours.”  As I wind down its time to check in.  “So is this a job you are up for? Do you think you can handle it?”

And then we go around the circle and I have each wife tell us just what is it that your husband will do well at when it comes to supporting her.  Occasionally I get a blank look, one time the poor wife couldn’t grasp for anything- yikes.  I get answers like foot rubs, encouragement, sense of humor, “He will keep me from worrying.”  I can see his shoulders rise as he inhales confidence. 

I then turn to the men, “What is it your wife will need most from you?”  They smile, a chance to get her back.  The Amish are not fond of speaking of this kind of thing in front of each other.  They likely squirmed a little at what their wife was going to say about them.  Now it is their turn.  A listening ear, foot rubs, encouraging words, to just be there.  It’s blooming right in front of me, like an early summer peony, their awareness of the emotional task that lays before them.

I leave our last session together hopeful for the couples.  I am excited for all that lays ahead of them.  The hard work of it accepted and now the depth of the task laying before them better understood.  They are often more confident, comforted by the information and ready to face it together.

*Special thanks to Stephanie Price who formatted much of the content I use in class and graciously passed both the information and the opportunity to teach on to me.*