Just in case I am still a cave dweller unpacking and haven’t demanded that DH set up the computer and innernetz, kicking and screaming like Veruca Salt, gotten around to setting up the computer, I thought I should set up one more post.  Call me crazy, but I am going to try to pick up a doula client who is due April 11th-ish.  We need the money and I need the work.  As I think I have explained before, my work as a doula gives me a sense of autonomy.  It’s not as desperate as it was before – being the Blog Master Extraordinaire (bwa ha ha ha!) for the Birth Matters blog has also helped, but there is something just completely out of this world about helping to make someone’s childbirth experience something they look back on and have nothing but good thoughts and memories.  There is something supernatural about witnessing nature renew itself.  I would be lying if I said it wasn’t a personal thrill.  It’s the closest I have ever come to having that high I got when Mega was born.  It wasn’t the same, but it’s pretty close.  The exhilaration and suspense is just mind-boggling.  I love almost every thing about being a doula, with the only exception being when I have to advocate fiercely, and despite advocating as vocally as I can, my client’s wishes are not honored, respected, and in the worst cases, are just not heard.

          *sigh*  After I had an experience where the client’s wishes fell on deaf ears despite no medical indication that what was going on was necessary, I wanted to blog about it.  I had to get it out there so that others would be as enraged and saddened as I was.  I never would have used names (either my client’s, nor the OB’s or the name of the hospital where it took place), but somehow, that almost made it worse.  Like instead of a private defeat, it would be a public defeat, and with the addition of humiliation on my part.  I felt like I hadn’t done my job and my heart just ached for the new mother.  My personal fears were somewhat allayed at the postpartum meeting when both the mother and father expressed that they thought I did everything I could.  Looking back, I remember my client’s husband looking like he was going to smack the OB, and my heart leapt out to him, to the mother, and much as I felt the same way, I just did the best I could to help the couple understand.  The couple explained that 1.) They remembered me speaking up more than once about what was going on, reminding the staff that the couple specifically requested to avoid this procedure; 2.) They knew I had to work there again; 3.) They knew I couldn’t smack the OB or just block her; and 4.) That in addition to trying to get the OB to explain what was going on as the mother began to cry and shake with fury and frustration, I did all I could do.  That’s the part of my job I loathe…  Knowing that sometimes, my hands are just tied.  I can throw everything I have worked for away, and my clients still might not get what they want or get something they don’t want.  I have to protect myself, selfish as that may sound…  *slow head shake*  It really is the only part of my job I don’t like.

          So yeah, hopefully I can pick up this quick client and have a bit o’ cash to offset some of our moving costs and get our financial train on track!