by Hyapatia Lee
They had a newborn baby girl named Autumn. She was adorable and being around her on daily basis made me painfully aware of just how much I wanted a baby myself. Bud said he understood how I felt and that he, too, wanted a child. After carefully talking it out and planning, we decided to try to conceive a baby. I went off the birth control pills and it wasn’t long before I was thankfully blessed with pregnancy.
People who were unaware that I shot four movies a year at the most, with only one or two sex scenes in each, made stupid comments like “How can you be sure it is Bud’s baby?” Fertility awareness, coupled with spermicides, would preclude a pregnancy conceived on an X-rated movie set. Sex in X-rated movies climaxes with external ejaculation, which further limits the chances of conception. Naturally, insensitive comments put more stress on our already weak relationship. We were trying to concentrate on our happiness.
Our joy was short lived, however, as three months later I miscarried.
I have always believed in a woman’s right to choose to give birth to a fetus inside her or to have an abortion. I always felt that the baby would be better off to come back to the woman’s womb at a time when the baby was more wanted, when she could give the baby all the time consuming and energy draining things that it needs. I often wished my mother had gone through with the abortion she had planned so I could have been born at a better time or to parents who really wanted me. After the miscarriage, however, I started to re-think my opinion of abortion. I started to question at what point does life begin.
The Cherokee believe that life begins at four and a half months. Some tribes believe the soul comes into the body the first time a baby smiles. I think a baby is alive when the mother, the one who is physically attached to it and carries it, feels that it is. After all, the baby is inside her, part of her body. If she doesn’t know, no one does. I also decided it should be entirely up to the woman carrying the baby to give birth or not. If you can’t trust a woman with a decision to give birth to a child, how can you trust them with raising the child? Similarly, it should be up to the mother to decide when someone causes her to physically loose her unborn child if that person is guilty of murder. I know of several women who feel they were almost forced into abortions by spouses or parents and these women suffer tragically.
No matter how many painfully short days I had to get to know my baby, I was attached to it and I loved it and I grieved for it. There are organizations that support women who have experienced miscarriage, and some of them advocate a ceremonial burial complete with tiny casket and tombstone. This helps the grieving mother to see her loss as real and valid. Toooften in today’s society death and pain are denied, especially when it comes to miscarriage and stillbirth. Luckily, it is not as bad as it once was.
When my maternal grandmother gave birth to her first baby and it died within a few hours, she was still asleep with anesthesia and they never even let her see her baby. She never got a chance to properly grieve for it. All the pain was just swept under the rug. That’s how they handled such things back then. In some parts of the country it is still not much better today. The emotional consequences of miscarriage and stillbirth in our society is not very well understood or supported.
Bud and I soon conceived again, but there was not the happiness there was the first time. Instead, there was fear, doubt and anxiety. Would I miscarry again? I couldn’t go to the bathroom without living in terror of finding blood on the tissue. I was happy to be pregnant, but I could not share my joy for fear of only having sad news in a few weeks. I could not dream of a baby shower, no matter how far along I might get to be, it would be bad luck to me. At any time, the baby could die. Right before the fourth month of my pregnancy, I miscarried again. I was devastated.
This time I saw a midwife, instead of a doctor, and I hoped she could suggest some herbs to stop this. I had studied Native American medicinal healing when working in Deleware but nothing I had learned in my studies on herbal healing with Gladys had said anything about stopping a miscarriage. My midwife had no ideas either. The only thing better about this time was that I did not go to the hospital for a D&C, but stayed at home to mourn and bleed with the support of my husband and my dogs. Living with our friends and their beautiful baby girl only made it worse. I didn’t want to be at home to have it rubbed in my face how lucky others were and how much I was missing out. Every place we went I saw the children first. Kids who were being yelled at and frazzled moms made me furious because I had so much love and patience to give a child and yet I was denied. I was angry at God for the unfairness of women pregnant with their third and fourth baby. Eventually our friends moved out. It hurt to be in my house when they were there.
They were good parents and very understanding friends and I felt bad about their having to leave, but there comes a point where one must protect one’s self. I could not take any more. I paid for their moving expenses and helped them relocate.
After I healed I made a concentrated effort to find out everything I could about miscarriage and why it kept happening to me. We went to fertility specialists who did tests on each of us that totaled over $500.00 apiece. I read books and searched out people like Gayle Peterson who specialized in therapy and hypnotic suggestions to help the client relax and trust their body, helping it along in the process of conception, gestation and birth. I tried fertility ceremonies from several cultures and I prayed to God for understanding.
Many people would tell me it was “God’s will”. But why would God take a child who is desperately wanted from a happy womb when so many children are being aborted who are not wanted at that time? They told me that there must be something wrong with the baby, but tests did not show this to be true, and if it were, that would only cause me to wonder why things kept going wrong with my babies. My Ob/Gyn said she would monitor my progesterone levels in the next pregnancy and see if they dropped and if that had anything to do with it. A nutritionist suggested the same thing.
Finally, I conceived again. I took 3 pregnancy tests just to be sure. They all came back positive. My doctor said that all the old TV shows where the pregnant woman gets thrown down the stairs and miscarries were lies. She convinced me that if a woman was going to miscarry, there was nothing they could do about it and if she wasn’t, a train wreck couldn’t start it. So I continued to go about my life and work. I had spent the last pregnancy living in terror. I had stopped everything! I did nothing but concentrate all day on keeping the baby and avoiding going to the bathroom. I realized with this pregnancy that if it was going to happen, it was going to happen and all I could do was to love my baby every day we had together and pray at night that this day wasn’t our last.
My doctor took blood tests in the third month and said everything looked perfect, my progesterone levels were soaringand she didn’t want to see me for another two weeks. Bud and I went to do a short weekend gig, hoping everything would continue to be fine, but when I returned, I was no longer pregnant. I began to bleed the day before I returned.
This whole thing was driving me absolutely crazy.
Statistics say that 1/5 to 1/4 of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, but three times in a row? The first time many of my friends who had experienced miscarriages understood how I felt. But I felt all alone when it came to someone understanding the triple betrayal by my body. All the tests had come back normal and they couldn’t seem to determine the cause. My cervix was normal and didn’t open up prematurely, there was no genetic abnormality, Bud’s sperm were healthy, etc. The only thing abnormal at all was the blood test after my final miscarriage, it showed extremely low progesterone levels, even for someone who had just lost a baby.
I had been ordering candles and incense from a home-based mail order catalog. The owner advertised tarot card readings. Bud and I were going to be in the LA area near where she lived and we requested to go there in person. We each wanted to have our cards read and my question focused on whether or not I would ever be able to give birth to a live, healthy baby.
Annu w
as a very sweet, soft-spoken woman. You could tell by looking into her eyes that she was very wise and spiritual. Her basement area, where she did her readings, was decorated in Egyptian decor, showing her obvious love of Isis and Osiris. As she did our readings, the cards appropriately spoke to our inner voices of fear and doubt. The reading made sense to us and seemed to fit. After it was all over, she asked me if I would like to do a traditional Native American pipe ceremony for the prayer of a healthy child to be born to us. I had told her of my heritage. She had asked about the origin of my name and it led to my Indian blood, so she must have known how this would appeal to me.
As we did the ceremony, I was in awe of how comfortable this white woman was with a traditional Native American sacred pipe. It stirred up many emotions in me. There is quite a controversy surrounding the Native American Church and their consent to worship with people who do not have a certain amount of Native blood. This stems from the United States government’s desire to restrict the practice of our traditional religion and their outlawing many of our ceremonies except for those with enough proven Indian blood. I was happy and proud to see Annu’s obvious love and understanding of my people’s culture and religion. It really touched my heart. When it was all over, Annu asked me if I would be interested in being healed by her teacher, Swiftdeer. I had never heard of this man but the idea of being healed by the traditional way of my ancestors was like going back to the spirits that my womb ties me to. Going back to the ones who have come before to help birth the ones who would come in the future felt like the perfect thing to do.
Swiftdeer is three-quarters Cherokee and one-quarter Irish, like me. He studied the Sweet Medicine Sundance Path with Tom “Two Bears” Wilson, a Navajo Medicine Man and former president of the Native American Church. Carlos Castaneda portrayed Two Bears as Don Genaro in his famous books. In 1992, Swiftdeer was seated and sealed as a Twisted Hair Elder on the Twisted Hairs Council of Elders. “Twisted Hairs” means that they have studied knowledge from all sources and tried it out for themselves. When they find it to be true, or to “grow corn”, as they say, they weave it together with what they already knew, to formulate what is true and valid for them. In 1250 B.C. men and women of knowledge gathered from all over Turtle Island. This includes North and South America, Australia, New Zealand, and all the Pacific Islands in between. They formed a secret society called the Rattlesnake School. In 1224 AD they met with other shamans and wise women and men from all the eight great powers, or the representatives from the rest of the world. In 1250 AD The Twisted Hairs of Turtle Island formed a Metis (or mixed-blood) Medicine Society Council of Elders. During times when their knowledge and ways were threatened, the elders were wise and kept all the knowledge in underground kivas. These kivas are underground shelters where traditional ceremonies are often held. In 1975 the council decided it was necessary to share the teachings with public in order to heal the Earth and the collective. Swiftdeer was designated as one of the
Carriers of the Southwest Shields of the Sweet Medicine Sundance Wheels and Keys.
A week before the healing Annu gave me a sheet of paper with what seemed like a million questions on it. For the healing, Swiftdeer needed to know more about me, the patterns I had fallen into in life, how I saw things, experiences I had, and much much more. There are 5 areas of your life, physical, mental, emotional, spiritual and sexual. There are also 5 arenas of life; family, social, political, religious and economic. For each arena, I was asked to look at my life at different ages and explain what was going on in each area and what decisions I formed from these events. It was a very enlightening exercise and I really got to know myself better.
In payment for the healing, I was to bring medicine gifts for each person in the healing circle, things like; crystals, tobacco, medicine pouches, etc. and tobacco for Swiftdeer. As the day approached, I was afraid my gifts would be too small, too cheap. I didn’t know what was customary and I wasn’t sure how many people would be there, “18-23 “ was what I was told.
When the day finally arrived, I could hardly wait. I was dying to find out just how authentic this medicine man was and what would be involved in the healing. I wasn’t even sure how long it was going to take. We met Annu at a pre-determined place and time and followed her out to Swiftdeer’s house. Annu was part of an advanced class of healers and blanketed apprentices. Bud and I waited in the living room while they held class for two and a half hours.
The house was marvelous. It was like nothing I had ever seen before. The walls and floors were covered with the skins of all kinds of different animals, Indian paintings and artifacts. There were pictures of famous Native Americans like Geronimo, Chief Joseph and Red Cloud. Massive crystals of all shapes and colors adorned the shelves and tops of every table. Most of them had lighted stands that shot their luminosity up through the bottom of the crystal, giving it a glow that made it look alive. There were authentic bows and arrows, Navajo rugs, baskets and skulls everywhere. The smell of clove cigarettes permeated the area. There was also the smell of smudge drifting by every now and then.
Swiftdeer ushered us into the living room. He quickly explained that we were to wait here while he and the others prepared for the ceremony. We sat as instructed as the house bustled about us. There were dozens of people running around collecting power objects and other items. Then all was quiet. We assumed they were discussing and planning our healing, as we knew this was one of Swifts’ classes for his advanced students. I suppose it was kind of like an internship.
Hours ticked by, time slowed and suddenly we realized it was midnight and we hadn’t even gotten started yet! Some time later, everyone was out. They would be ready for us soon, after a short bathroom break. We smudged. Smudge is made up of sage and many tribes add lavender or cedar to it. The Cherokees often used cedar alone. The idea is to light the mixture in a shell, held in the left hand, and fan it with feathers, held in the right hand. You fan the smoke over your body. Some say you start at the left leg, work up the body, over the head, and back down the right leg, others prefer to do the solar plexus first, and then on to over the head and other extremities. The purpose is to cleanse yourself and your spirit. It takes stress out of you and blesses you in preparation for prayer, or just as a relief from a stressful day. Often times a braid of sweetgrass is lit afterwards to bring the spirits into our lives and call Wakan Tanka, the Great Spirit, to us.
We entered what looked like a garage outside and an almost traditional Cherokee council house on the inside. Inside the garage were a lot more people than I had thought I saw go through the house. They were all sitting in a circle, a medicine wheel. Swiftdeer was the only one in a chair. Bud and I entered and were instructed to sit in the center and face Swift. Then we turned clockwise as everyone in the circle took their turns asking questions about our lives and our quest.
There are many medicine wheels for many different things. As one studies them, it becomes obvious that they all overlap.
One of the most important wheels is the Star Maiden’s circle. As I faced each direction, I was asked about thingspertaining to it. In the South I was asked about mythology and entertainment. This is how we have made sense of the things that have happened to us and how we “entertain” ourselves with visions of what we expect the future to be like based on what we have decided is our truth.
Facing the southwest, I was asked about symbols and how I processed life’s experiences. What did I get from the things life threw at me? Did things beat me down or make me stronger?
When confronting the west, I was asked about my daydreams. Did I find myself in the past or the future most of the time, or did I stay in the here and now? What did my daydreams anticipate?
In the northwest I faced rules and laws. If one does not obey the sacred laws of the universe, one does not find their true self. Did I honor the sacred laws and listen to the rules of my heart?
In the north I looked at philosophy, meaning and purpose. This is the place that stands for your knowledge. Is it ju
st sitting on a dusty shelf in the back of your mind, or are you using the things you know to add a positive meaning and purpose to your life? Have you put two and two together yet and understood how to get more than just four out of it?
Looking at the northeast I faced design and choreography of energy movement. How did I plan on reaching my goals and using my knowledge?
In the east was fantasy illusion. Sometimes things that look very bad are actually good, and what seems like the obvious way to go, is not. How did I separate fantasy from reality and what happens when I find out I was wrong?
The south stands for concept of yourself and the world. This means that you actually are the one who decides what kind of person you will be. You decide how you will allow the events in your life to shape you.
Each participant had been given a copy of my lengthy life experience questionnaire in advance. I had written about my life and how its experiences had affected my five arenas and five areas. I felt naked, exposed to the core, and I started to feel embarrassed. Swiftdeer must’ve noticed because he started to comfort me, calling me “Little Sister” and explaining to everyone how my thoughts and beliefs were the normal thoughts of anyone who would have been in the same situations I had been in. I immediately felt this man understood why I did the things I did, and that I might be more normal than I thought after all.
After he finished, I started with the person to his left and faced them as they asked me questions about what I desired out of life and what I expected out of parenthood. Swiftdeer’s partner, Diane, spoke first.