"He Never Hit Me"

Two QUICK reads...

I Got Flowers Today

It wasn't my birthday or any other special day.
We had our first argument last night,
And he said a lot of cruel things that really hurt me.
I know he is sorry and didn't mean the things he said.
Because he sent me flowers today.

It wasn't our anniversary any other special day.

Last night, he threw me into a wall and started to choke me.
It seemed like a nightmare.
I couldn't believe it was real.
I woke up this morning sore and bruised all over.
I know he must be sorry.
Because he sent me flowers today.

and it wasn't Mother's Day or any other special day.
Last night, he beat me up again.
And it was much worse than all the other times.
If I leave him, what will I do?
How will I take care of my kids?
What about money?
I'm afraid of him and scared to leave.
But I know he must be sorry.
Because he sent me flowers today.

Today was a very special day.
It was the day of my funeral.
Last night, he finally killed me.
He beat me to death.
If only I had gathered enough courage and strength to leave him,
I would not have gotten flowers...today.

by Paulette Kelly

Here's the other thing to read - a story I came across recently that really resonated with me. Many people only think domestic violence is physical, like it isn't DV if he doesn't hit you.  Sorry, but that's not true.  DV comes in many shapes and forms.  This story gives a good look at DV from the perspective of someone who never got hit. Click HERE.

Domestic Violence is YOUR Issue!

The story from yesterday was an all too typical story of what I used to see on a daily basis, for the eight years I worked in the field of domestic violence. But the story was also just a glimpse. I literally could talk all day about DV and it's effects on people, society and YOU.  For starters, did you know that in Texas, in 2012, there were 188,992 instances of DV (more info here)???

I can guarantee that every single person reading this knows someone affected by DV, if you haven't been affected by it first hand. Think about it.  Remember an old neighbor, that friend you had in 8th grade who house you could never stay at on the weekends but were never sure of why, the woman at church who 'just tripped and fell,' breaking her ankle (for the third time), the man in front of you in line at Target who jumps just a little every time his wife starts talking to him, or how about the child you saw at the playground who starts to cry every time his mom begins to correct him for doing something she didn't like. 

Domestic violence is my passion, per se. I did my Master's level research on domestic violence (I looked at the correlation between women who are abused and the rate at which they then abuse drugs/substances as a method of coping), have been to and led many trainings and class discussions on the topic, and still read and research the topic to this day. It's still not enough though.  Domestic violence is an epidemic. But we still don't talk about it!  Did you know that "Domestic violence affects one in four women...that's more than breast cancer, ovarian cancer and lung cancer COMBINED!" (link). Yes, please support breast cancer awareness and please do not forget about that devastating disease, BUT please don't leave out domestic violence either!!

Yes, I have a new job now, but no, I will never forget about domestic violence, how it has affected my life, and I will continue to spread the word about what DV is and how YOU can help.  DV is actually a fairly large part of what I do now (perinatal social work), as noted with the following stats:

• Homicide is the SECOND LEADING CAUSE OF TRAUMATIC DEATH among pregnant and recently pregnant women in the U.S., accounting for 31 percent of maternal injury deaths.
• Women experiencing abuse in the year prior to and/or during a recent pregnancy are 40 to 60 percent more likely than non-abused women to report high-blood pressure, vaginal bleeding, severe nausea, kidney or urinary tract infections and hospitalization during pregnancy and are 37 percent more likely to deliver preterm. Children born to abused mothers are 17 percent more likely to be born underweight and more than 30 percent more likely than other children to require intensive care upon birth. 

Scary huh?!?! So for the next few posts, I'm going to talk about what domestic violence is, what to look for when trying to identify a victim of DV, why victims stay with abusers, and what you can do as a member of society (and specifically a nurse :)). #DVseries - here I come :)

Unless specifically noted, all the aforementioned information, besides my own opinions, were gleaned from the following: www.futureswithoutviolence.org, www.tcfv.org, www.thehotline.org 

A little story to think on...

"When we started dating, I was young and impressionable and he was cool and charming. He seemed so sweet. I hadn’t been looking for a relationship when I met him but he was so crazy about me and he made me feel really good about myself. He told me that I was beautiful and that he had never felt that way about anyone before. He wanted to be with me all the time. We became inseparable. It wasn’t long before he told me that he was in love with me. I didn’t feel ready to say it back, but I did. I still don’t know why. I did grow to love him though. He became my whole world. I didn’t mind when he asked me questions all the time; I thought it was because he was worried about me and it made me feel loved. After a few months though, the questions turned to interrogations. Then he started telling me that I couldn’t go certain places or hang out with certain people. I tried to be understanding about it; I wanted to make him happy. But the “off-limit” list just kept growing. I found that I was blowing my friends off all the time, not because I didn’t want to see them, but because I wanted to avoid a fight. I hated fighting with him. He was so mean when we fought. I knew all those horrible things he said about me weren’t true, but it hurt so bad hearing them from the mouth of the man I loved. I just wanted to keep him happy. After we had been dating for a few months, I got pregnant. When he found out, he wanted to marry me. I wasn’t sure what I wanted; he was so controlling. I missed the little things that came with freedom. I felt stuck; trapped. But I said yes. I wanted to be a family. Things changed after that though. We fought all the time. It seemed like I was always the enemy, always the one to blame.

"And then it happened. I was four months pregnant at the time. He came home in the middle of the night, drunk. He had been in a fight. I don’t remember what I said to make him mad but he hit me, hard, across the face. I was in shock. Crying, I started to leave. That infuriated him and he pushed me against the wall. I was afraid to move. I just wanted to leave but he had the car keys in his pocket.  I tried to calm him. I told him I just wanted to go, that he would hurt the baby if he pushed me, but he kept pushing me and throwing me around. At some point, he finally stopped. He went to bed with the keys still in his pocket. I curled up on the couch and cried throughout the night. I thought about calling someone to pick me up but something stopped me. I was so ashamed, so confused.  I have never felt so alone in my life.

"The next morning, I told him I was leaving him. He just kept saying that he was so sorry, so ashamed. He explained that he had taken some pills that night; that he had blacked out and hadn’t known what he was doing. He even cried, saying he would never, ever hurt me again. He promised he’d do anything if I stayed. Feeling as though I had nowhere to go and just wanting to forget the whole thing ever happened, I told him that I would stay if he would take anger management classes and go to Narcotics Anonymous so he could finally kick his habit of taking pills. He promised he would. That night he bought me dinner and left roses in a vase on the table next to an “I’m sorry” card.

"Over the next several months, our relationship was rocky and we fought all the time. He never did take anger management or go to drug rehab. He kept taking pills and they kept making him angry and unpredictable. I got used to being insulted and put down every day. I stayed though, because the baby was coming and he promised that once our son was here, he would stop taking pills. I believed him that he would stop, and figured that when he did, the verbal abuse would stop too.

"After our son was born, he was out drinking and taking pills more than ever before. I was angry and bitter because I was always left alone with our baby; because he never helped me with him, he didn’t seem to care that I was exhausted or that I needed him. When our son was only a few months old, it happened again. I had stayed the night at my mom’s place so she could help me with my son and I could get some sleep. He had been gone for most of the weekend anyways. When he got home in the morning, he called me and demanded that I came home. When I got there, he slapped me. He was so mad that I had gone to my mom’s. He hadn’t known where I was, he said, he had been worried sick. Why couldn’t I take care of my own son? He wasn’t enough help? Was I even at my mom’s or was I out “whoring” around? I told him that no, he wasn’t enough help. That’s when he punched me, again and again and again. He was yelling and screaming the whole time and so was I. I don’t know who called the cops, but when they came, he told me to hide in the closet. He said that if I came out and said anything, they would call CPS and they would take my son away from me. I couldn’t lose my son, and I was scared, so I got in the closet. I heard him telling the cops that we had gotten into a screaming argument and that I had driven away but that everything was O.K. They believed him and they left. This time, he apologized but there were no flowers, no dinner, no promises to change.

"Back then, he only hit me every few months, but as the months went by, he starting hitting me harder, and more often.  He made excuses a lot, usually blaming the pills, the alcohol, and his troubled childhood. And he apologized after hurting me, most of the time. Every now and then, he would promise to go to rehab and stop taking pills and drinking so much. Sometimes he’d tell me he would stop hitting me, but after another year, I stopped believing it. I stayed anyways though because I had a daughter on the way. I wanted my children to have a dad. I still wanted to be a family.

"After my daughter was born, we started fighting a lot again. I was walking on eggshells all the time. I was a nervous wreck, exhausted, and I never knew what to expect from him. One night last month, he came home drunk. I hadn’t known where he was but I could tell he had taken some pills and been drinking. When I refused to have sex with him, he pushed me off the bed. I woke up a few hours later. My head was bleeding and throbbing. I had hit it on the bedside table. My babies were crying and he was gone. I felt like I was dying. I was dizzy and in a daze. I couldn’t see straight and my head hurt too bad to stand up. I called my friend and she came to get me. She dropped the kids off at her mom’s house and she drove me to the hospital. I didn’t want to go but she wouldn’t take no for an answer. When I got there, all I could do was cry. I didn’t tell anyone what had happened but they knew. A social worker came to speak with me. I didn’t tell her either, but she knew. She told me there was a place I could go for free where they would help me get my own place and where they would keep me safe.  I could leave whenever I wanted. He never had to know I was there. No one had to know. I was so scared of him, so I agreed to go, just to try it out."

I'll post a follow-up soon, promise!

Lo siento, no hablo Español.

Quite a large part of the population I work with are Spanish-speaking only although I've had a few Cantonese-speaking, French-speaking and Nepali-speaking patients. No matter the language though, there is one thing for sure.  Empathy does not translate.

The hospital I work at has what is considered a typical set-up with the language line. It goes something like this: I use a specific phone ('the blue phone'), click a few buttons, and voila, a person is on the phone who not only speaks English but speaks whatever language I chose as well (the language the patient speaks). The patient picks up the other receiver that is attached to the phone and there we all are together. I introduce myself and tell them who the patient is and give the interpreter the go-ahead to do their introductions. The interpreter introduces themselves with a fairly consistent little speech that I'm sure I'll have memorized one day soon and tells the patient who I am. From there, I talk to the interpreter like I am talking directly to the patient. No third person or whatever. If I want to know the name of the patient's new baby, I would not say to the interpreter, "Can you ask her what her new baby's name is?" I would say instead to the interpreter (while looking at the patient), "What is your new baby's name?" as if the patient understood what I said. I do my best to not sound like a robot and to use reflective listening skills, but gosh-darn-it, some of those interpreters just don't get it.

I find that this happens a lot...
Me: "Congratulations on your new baby.  I just have a few questions for you real quick if you don't mind."
Interpreter: "blah blah blah."
Me thinking: there's no way she said all I just said...so I'll repeat what I just said
Me: "I just have a few questions for you real quick if you don't mind."
Interpreter: "blah blah blah blah blah blah"
Me thinking: ok, I recognize some of those words in Spanish, I think she repeated what I said, I'll move on now.

Or sometimes this happens:
Me: "Can you tell me about the baby's father? Is he involved?"
Interpreter to patient: "blah blah blah blah blah."
Patient: "blah blah blah."
Interpreter to patient: "blah blah blah blah blah."
Patient: "blah blah blah"
Interpreter to patient: "blah blah blah blah."
Patient: "Si."
Interpreter to me: "She said yes."
Me thinking: she said yes, what? You talked back and forth to her and I know you said more than what I said because I recognized some of the Spanish words you used, so please just tell me everything that was said!
Me to interpreter: "Can you go ahead and tell me everything that was said and translated, please?"

I've even dealt with some very rude interpreters. The absolute worst is when I'm dealing with a patient who just lost her child (which happens about once every week or so, although not all of these patients are Spanish-speaking) and the interpreter conveys NONE of my empathy, calm voice tone, and/or actively listening cues.

The more I work through the language interpretation line, the more comfortable I have gotten with it and the more I've learned about how I should use it as a practitioner.  I've also picked up on a lot of Spanish!  I'm no where near being able to actually speak Spanish, but let me tell you - I know a lot of random Spanish words now, especially medical related words! I always make sure to look at the patient when I talk and when what I said is being translated, and I can usually tell what part of what I said is being translated at any given time and try to portray the correlating facial expression during that time. It's not easy though. And I've learned, the more dire the situation, the harder it is.

So basically, I have a love-hate relationship with the language translation line.  I'm so thankful that we have it available to use and cannot imagine not having it, but I do wish it was easier on the patient (like I need to learn Spanish!)!  I cannot imagine being somewhere for medical care, let alone while having a baby, and not knowing the language.  How scary?! (did you recognize that 'tuning in' skill?!)

What's your take on language translation lines? Any experience, good or bad, with it?

To Circ or Not To Circ...(potentially a little NSFW)

Is this really a question? Is keeping a baby boy intact or cut an issue? YES!

No matter your stance on the issue, male children are affected by your thoughts and beliefs on circumcision. I'm not here to sway you one way or the other, (remember I'm a social worker and I only want what is best for you in YOUR situation, I promise) but I do want you to make the BEST DECISION for YOUR child and in YOUR circumstance/s! I think I've also been thinking more and more about this issue since I'm a soon-to-be, second-time, AUNT to a boy!

Recently, I had the pleasure (wrong word?!) of witnessing a circumcision procedure. Wow.  I honestly had no idea what all went into the procedure.  It's not an easy, quick, snip of some skin at the tip of a baby's penis.  It's a little bit more than that.

I will spare you all the gory details but I will show you the tool that was used...

I'll let you figure out how that was used :)

After doing some research on circumcision (anyone who looks at my browser's history right now would probably be concerned!) I learned that there are many different ways to do a circ and many different tools one can use.  Whatever. I saw the one above used and that was enough for me. But still, what's the point of a circ?

For those on the camp side that are FOR circumcisions, they usually list the following reasons as to why:

• It's cleaner! Like, who has the two seconds it takes to clean a baby's penis properly anyways?!
• The bible says it should be done, duh!
• It's done to prevent UTIs, the spread of diseases, and to prevent penile cancer.  You want your kid to get cancer?!?!
• My son should look like his dad.  I don't want him to think he's different!
• An uncircumcised penis looks gross.  Who wants to see that?!

For those on the other side of the camp, who are AGAINST circumcision, usually have these reasons as to why:

• You are not cutting my son.  The procedure is painful and he'll remember it forever...ahhhh!
• Having foreskin makes sex more pleasurable, don't take that away!
• God gave him that skin for a reason, not for it to be taken away.
• If my son wants it done, he can decide on his own when he's old enough
• An circ'ed penis looks the same when it's erect!

Ok, yes, that's all dramatic and stuff (and I know there's a lot more reasons for both sides) but for some reason, this topic is a sensitive topic that people get dramatic about!  Anyhow, at the end of the day, and what I want to stress to you the most is, THIS IS YOUR DECISION (as a parent), please make it wisely and with as much knowledge as possible.  Don't listen to others out there.  Do your research.  And talk to your doctor!!! 

and...if you really wanna know what I would do if, heaven forbid, I ever have a son, hit me up  :)

Guess what I did today?!

I called a patient "MOM!"

Crazy, huh? But for real.  I did it without even thinking about it and it felt totally comfortable, natural, non-intrusive, and ok. I was actually a little surprised :) The patient did not seem to mind either...or her husband, the dad, or the aunt, or the grandparents that were present.  It really was natural.

So, suffice it to say, I'm apparently not too uncomfortable calling other people "Mom!"

Happy ALMOST FRIDAY!!!

Who's Your Momma?

This is actually a topic that was discussed in the LCSW supervision group I was a part of years ago and I never really thought much about it after that conversation, until recently, as I'm now working in the perinatal field.

So, who's your mom?  Or rather, who's the mom?

The thought I've been pondering about is this: is it acceptable to refer to any woman, whether related to you or not, by "Mom/Momma/Mommy/etc." just because she has a child or children?  Is this cultural? Ethical? Am I wrong for not doing it? 

It goes like this...I walk into a room with a nurse so she can introduce me (we don't do it this way all the time, just when we/I think it would help as the nurse already has built rapport with the patient), and the nurse knocks on the door, enters, and excitedly says "Hey Momma! This is so and so, blah blah blah, you get the picture." They never use the word Mom in any way other than a positive way. 

The first time I actually heard this happen my immediate reaction was shock. 'Like, did I hear her right?! Ok it's just this once, I'll let it go.' But it happened again.  And again.  And again.  Not every nurse or healthcare professional does this, but many do. And I still feel a little shocked each time I hear it.  

Growing up for me was different than it is for most.  I was adopted.  My birth mother could not raise me.  But I knew who she was, she was a family member.  I never called her Mom or any form of the word. I called my adoptive mother, Mom. She was my mom. She was raising me.  In my mind, my birth mother did not deserve to be called Mom (and yes, this is another story for another day!). The word Mom, to me, was sacred and only one's mom should be called that. I've realized this is a value for me. 

I consider myself an open, empathetic person and one who is not quick to judge. So when I realized that hearing the use of 'Mom' in a different way was actually bothering me, I knew I needed to think deep about it and examine myself. So, thinking on this topic has me all over the place.  It seems for some it is a cultural, respect thing. I actually hear the use of this word more among African Americans. I rarely hear it among Caucasians.

I think it is mostly used as an endearing way to say "dear, hun, hey you, etc." and is an affectionate term. But does using this word devalue women? What if one can't be a mom, for whatever reason? What if a woman who just lost a child is called 'Mom' by someone who doesn't know her situation? 

While writing this, I realized I hear the use of 'Mom/Mommy/Momma' in another way too - adults calling small female children 'Momma.' What if that child grows up, remembering that she was once called 'Momma' but she cannot have children. Does this affect her at all? Again, are we devaluing moms by calling non-moms this? Are we putting undue pressure on women who don't want to be moms or who can't be moms?

I don't have the answer.  I don't have most answers! I do know for me though, I am uncomfortable calling anyone else but my mother, 'Mom.' It's ok with me though if you feel otherwise and practice differently than I do. Just make sure you've really thought this through and are doing it for the right reasons and appropriately. 

I started this blog in an attempt to get my thoughts on paper (or computer!). I have a long drive to and from work every day and do lots of thinking.  I truly enjoy the semi-quiet time I have and do a lot of reflecting during the drive. I've never been a great writer, so we'll see how this works...