Sunday, January 30, 2011


I am sad that we live in a culture where it is considered normal and acceptable to slice up the genitals of newborn babies.

I am sad that we live in a culture dominated by medicine, that doctors are "God" and incapable of making biased decisions, or decisions based on old studies that are no longer relevant or even safe.

I am sad that we live in a country so blinded by greed that people's health and well being come at a price.

I am determined to change all of this, one momma at a time. I am determined to give good, unbiased information, based on the latest research and old fashioned common sense. I am determined to help parents make the best, healthiest choices for themselves and their families.

I am equally determined not to judge a family if they make a choice that I wouldn't have made. If a momma is given the information, and she chooses to mutilate her child or allow a doctor to needlessly slice her open, that is a choice that cannot be undone. I will not lay a guilt trip on her. I will not get angry. I will not allow my feelings of sadness to ruin the beautiful, delicate postnatal period.

I will simply try harder next time. If I save even one baby, if I help even one mother to avoid unnecessary obstetric interventions, or to find resources for interventions she may need due to health issues - then I have succeeded.

I will not give up. I will not stop until I die.

Tuesday, January 25, 2011


I don't know why I am the way I am.

Ever since I can remember, I have felt a strong, primal urge to hurt myself. Not kill myself, not cause major injury. I don't want to make a mark, I want to feel the pain.

It's not some sort of weird sexual thing. I don't get any sexual pleasure out of hurting myself.

It's a high, sort of. It makes me feel alive when I'm numb inside. When I'm hurting on the inside, it brings the pain to the surface so I can deal with it.

I'm covered in scars. I'm forever marked by my demons.

I don't hurt myself anymore. Not the way I used to, anyway. Now I hurt myself with destructive behaviors and thoughts, destructive whispers to myself: "You, my dear, are a piece of shit."

I have this strong urge to modify my body in any way possible. I want to tattoo every inch of me, pierce everything I can pierce. I want to cut and carve and change every contour of my body, peel off my old skin and grow new skin. And I want it to hurt.

I wish I could tell you a sad story, about abandonment, abuse, neglect, torture. But I don't have a story. I had a ridiculously normal childhood (with pain, of course, but no more so than anyone else) - every part of my life has been normal.

No one hurt me deep enough to leave these scars, so I have to create them myself.

Thursday, January 20, 2011

First post ....

I've had a number of blogs before, some very successful with over 1000 followers. None of it meant anything though, because I had holed myself into one little niche, and even if I didn't feel like writing about the topic that day, I had to, because the contracts I signed in order to make a little cash mandated it.

Before, there were things I couldn't talk about. I couldn't talk about spirituality, or how my personal journey affects my parenting. I couldn't talk about things that are important to me, like supporting women in the childbearing years, ending routine infant circumcision, and gentle discipline.

This is a fresh new beginning. I'm all brand new, every day, every moment, every second. This blog is like that moment between inhaling and exhaling, the sacred renewal available to us at all times, if we only pause to see it.

Join me on this path, explore with me as we become what we are. I'm very happy to have you here.