Richard Schwartz: Greater than the Sum of Our Parts

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Turning to my Filipino Roots to Tend to Womb Loss

Eileen S. Rosete — October 18, 2024

October is a meaningful month for me as it honors two important parts of my identity. It is Filipino American History Month, a time to acknowledge and honor the presence and contributions of Filipino Americans. Although my parents immigrated to the United States from the Philippines in 1980, records show that Filipinos were present here as early as 1587, landing in present-day Morro Bay, California as part of a Spanish galleon. In an interesting moment of alignment, I am writing this to you from Morro Bay, feeling the palpable power of the land and seeing the sacred 600-foot-tall Morro Rock–known as Lisamu’ in the Chumash language and Lesa’mo’ by the Salinan people–standing proudly just outside the window of our Airstream trailer. October is also Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, a time to increase awareness about and honor those of us who have endured such loss- what I often refer to as womb loss.

This October is particularly meaningful with my book, To Tend and To Hold: Honoring Our Bodies, Our Needs, and Our Grief Through Pregnancy and Infant Loss, officially launching on October 22. In it I share how my identities as a Filipina American and bereaved mother intertwine, and how valuable it can be for survivors of womb loss to turn to their cultural traditions for support as they grieve and as their postpartum bodies return to a non-pregnant state. How I came across this online essay and found solace in the language of my ancestors who use terms to describe miscarriage as “someone from whom something was taken away” rather than placing blame with the prefix mis- which means wrongly or badly. I did not carry my pregnancies wrongly or badly. Loss was something that my body experienced.

The following is an excerpt from To Tend and To Hold that I hold dear as it shares a traditional Filipino dish I grew up eating and that I share now as a postpartum doula to offer comfort and nourishment to those who are postpartum, both with living children and after loss. I hope it may offer you comfort as well, no matter if your experience of womb loss was recent, in the past weeks, months or even many years ago. My heart is with you and please know that you are not alone as you grieve and as you heal- at your own pace and in your own way.

I recently cooked this recipe for champorado, a Filipino rice porridge, for my beloved friend Katrina on a very tender anniversary, the due date of one of her children and the death date of another. Her child, Zeo Thomas, would have been born that day had he not died in the womb at five months gestation. It was within the same year of his death that her second child, Solis Vida, died in the womb in the first trimester. In truth, Katrina had been bleeding for over a week to release her second pregnancy, but as she bled through Zeo’s due date, she felt an intuitive pull to honor this same date as Solis’s death date. I thought of my friend as I made my way slowly through the grocery store. Though it was crowded and busy, I felt cocooned in my thoughts and intentions for her—how I wanted to help her feel seen and held during this difficult time—and I found myself gathering each of the ingredients in a mindful way that felt like the beginning of a bigger ritual. Knowing I was going to cook for her to honor her, her babies, her grief, and also her longings added a layer of reverence to what would otherwise be a standard grocery run. Later as I cooked the porridge in her home, I channeled my love and condolences into each step. And when I finally brought the warm bowl of champorado to her and saw her reaction, it was my turn to feel honored. Honored to be there with her. Honored to tend to her. And with a dish we both knew from our childhoods. She dubbed it “postpartum champorado,” and so it shall be known.

Warm and soft, rice porridge is one of the best postpartum foods as it is easy to eat, warming to the body, and gentle on the digestive system. Its very nature is to offer comfort. In my opinion, champorado, a Filipino chocolate rice porridge I grew up savoring, is one of the most heartwarming dishes, with the cacao tending as much to the emotional heart as to the physical body. It can be offered any time of day for both a filling meal and a gentle reminder that there is still sweetness in life even amidst grief.

In this nourishing version, cacao powder is used in place of cocoa so that we may benefit from all that this superfood has to offer, including iron to help rebuild red blood cells, flavonoids to improve blood flow, and magnesium to ease anxiety and depression. In addition to being nutrient-rich, cacao is also known to lift the mood. If the thought of preparing food feels beyond your current capacity at this moment, consider sharing this recipe with a partner, postpartum doula, or other support person and asking them to cook it for you. Additionally, if you are currently pregnant, please consult your health-care provider before consuming cacao as it contains caffeine.

Champorado: Filipino chocolate rice porridge

1 cup sweet rice (also called glutinous or sticky rice) or sushi rice
5 cups water
1/4 cup cacao powder
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 tablespoon unflavored protein powder (optional)
Condensed coconut milk for topping
Cacao nibs (optional)

Rinse the sweet rice several times until the water runs clear when drained.

Combine rice and water in a pot over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to medium and continue to cook until the rice is soft and the porridge thickens (about 20 minutes), stirring often to keep from sticking to the bottom of the pot.

Add cacao powder, brown sugar, and unflavored protein powder. Stir to combine, then remove from heat.

Drizzle condensed coconut milk (or other milk of choice) and top with cacao nibs. Serve hot.

This is an adapted excerpt from To Tend and to Hold: Honoring Our Bodies, Our Needs, and Our Grief Through Pregnancy and Infant Loss by Eileen S. Rosete.

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Learning the Art of Thriving Online

Amelia Knott — October 14, 2024

Amelia Knott is an art psychotherapist who specializes in the mental health impacts of hustle culture and social media. In the video below (3:22 minutes), she shares her inspiration behind her written and illustrated workbook, The Art of Thriving Online: Creative Exercises to Help You Stay Grounded and Feel Joy in the World of Social Media and invites you in on the journey of reimagining a healthier relationship with the digital world.

You can also read the video transcript below:

It’s been half my life—literally half the years of my life—lifting my chin for pictures, anticipating the critical gaze of a digital audience, offering my presence half-heartedly to the world around me to to draft a clever caption, choose a flattering filter, and watch as my phone tells me if this time my work will be rewarded with worthiness.

Too many nights avoiding myself, letting the blue-light-lullaby of my screen become a substitute for true soothing. It’s been half my life; holding up the mirror of comparison to everyone’s best days and hottest takes, highlight reels curated with effortless nonchalance, and now the mirror of comparison to a perfected self made in the algorithm’s image. It’s been half my life of fractured attention, commodified vulnerability, fury, and fear taking turns with despondence.

What if my real life stopped being my body or the land, and became the non-place I devote my hours to?

And it’s been half my life wandering daily into the galleries of artists’ and thinkers’ most beautiful ideas. Half my life keeping far-away loved ones close.

It’s true that the Internet gave me my career, my marriage. It made visible the threads of similarity across a quickly dividing globe. It showed me life-saving examples of people who survived what I needed to survive and it broke my heart open at the things no one should have to.

I like to misquote Carl Jung when he said something almost like “a paradox is our most valuable spiritual tool.” I’m not interested in finding the elusive, singular hack that will make screen time less alluring forever. I’m not interested in a lifetime of cycling through eras of detox and excess. Vacillating between the high of a new regimen and the crash of shame when social media works once again, exactly as it was designed.

I’m a therapist. I know that hacks can be tools, or bandaids. A self-help, step-by-step, sales pitch plan can feel like salvation, but it’s not the medicine of being in an evolving conversation with yourself. I am more interested in making art. I’m more interested in learning to tolerate the tension between social media’s danger and its magic. I’m more interested in learning to like myself, unsolved.

And when I’m learning the same lesson, again, the hard way, I know that my allies in finding safe passage through the digital age are art and writing. Creativity is how we imagine a different future.

So I wrote us this book. It’s a place to start that conversation with yourself about what is really happening between you and your screen; who profits from the ways it harms you, and how to protect the parts of it that are genuinely good, because parts of it are.

So if you are ready to join me—an art psychotherapist who both loves the life her phone enables and desperately needs to put it down—we’ll make some art. We’ll sit in the stunning and maddening paradox, and we’ll find creative ways to author our own definitions of real wellbeing when we choose to be on social media.

And together we’ll find the art of thriving online.

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Five Tips for Postpartum Bliss

Pānquetzani — September 11, 2024

Bliss out on baby, mi amor. Love your chichis. Admire your soft curves, your delicate belly, and the way you require intentional care. Everything deep comes to the surface as you pour sweat, milk, blood, and tears onto your sheets. I want your postpartum to feel blissful, so here are five tips to help you make that happen.

1. Make a postpartum plan.

You can’t plan exactly the way the birth will pan out, but you can plan the details of your postpartum support. Bodywork, meals, laundry, and childcare for your other children are some things to consider. Use this book as a guide to feel into what nonnegotiables you’ll need in place during la cuarentena.

2. Don’t DIY postpartum.

There’s a time and place for self-reliance. Postpartum ain’t the time. Postpartum traditions are community centered. Once you know that you’re pregnant, surrender to other folks holding you. Waddle that ass to circles with like-minded familias who you know would be down for mutual support. This is why we have the Indigemama community and so many other comunidades who are dedicated to saving our lives.

3. Shift your mindset.

One of the biggest internal challenges I see postpartum people go through is the mental chatter that puts a wall up, barring any chance for outside support. When we’re socialized into struggling and then rewarded for doing things on our own, it’s easy to feel guilty asking for help. You might be distrustful of other people’s capacity to fulfill your needs. How many times have you heard women say, “If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself”? This belief sets postpartum people up for anxiety, stress, depression, and overwhelm. If you want postpartum done right, you have to feel in your body that you are worthy of being venerated; you must feel that you are deserving of being held.

Paying homage to you is paying homage to nature itself. Give your potential supporters that opportunity to connect with creation.

4. Repeat after me: affirmations, affirmations.

It’s easy to feel ashamed to ask for what you need. It’s normal to feel guilty when you see how hard people are working for you. Give yourself a pep talk: I allow myself to be cared for. I accept this help. I trust that I can be held without lifting a finger. I surrender myself to the love and labor of others. I soften and allow myself to be carried. I want you to do this every moment that you need it. When you affirm that you’re doing the right thing over and over, then eventually it becomes second nature.

5. Support your romantic relationship.

Postpartum is stressful AF! Those of us with multiple children can tell you that the little ones tend to take precedent over romantic relationships. But after a while, that really weighs down a union. Plan relationship goals. When will you start to date again? What’s the plan for one-on-one time? Who are the people who hold you and your partner(s) up as a sacred union? What baggage can you each decide to let go of now? What support can each of you get individually from healthy older couples who are content with each other? What can you appreciate about each other during la cuarentena? What words do you need to say to each other when the going gets tough? Nurturing a healthy, loving relationship with each other when you’re parenting children is a practice of discipline.

This excerpt is from Thriving Postpartum: Embracing the Indigenous Wisdom of La Cuarentena by Pānquetzani

Pānquetzani

Pānquetzani comes from a matriarchal family of folk healers from the valley of Mexico (Tenochtitlan, Texcoco, and Tlaxcala), La Comarca Lagunera (Durango and Coahuila), and Zacatecas. As a traditional herbalist, healer, and birth keeper, Pānquetzani has touched over 3,000 wombs and bellies. Through her platform, Indigemama: Ancestral Healing, she has taught over 100 live, in-person intensives and trainings on womb wellness. She lives in California. For more, visit indigemama.com.