Over a year ago, a dear friend of mine sent a package full of goodies. Among them was an assortment of essential oils and a diffuser, complete with a book about how to use them in pregnancy and labour. It was an incredibly thoughtful gift. I was so excited! My initial excitement waned as I envisioned how I might use the oils with the women in the ward. The ward is smelly, and the women are smelly and often very dirty. I knew a diffuser wasn't going to cut through the odors and infuse the room with the relaxing properties of an oil blend. And I couldn't imagine how I was going to explain to a laboring mama just exactly what I wanted to rub on her and why. Some of my doula suggestions are already received with strange faces of confusion or indignation. With each moment on this train of thought, I was increasingly more convinced that it would not be the best idea to introduce the developing world to essential oils. At least, I wasn't the person to do it.
Of course, I was so disappointed. This sweet and intentional gift was going to be for naught, and I felt guilty at the thought of enjoying the oils in my home all to myself. After much deliberating, I decided to put one of the blends in my hospital bag to have on hand should I work up the nerve to use it.
A couple of weeks later, I was in the ward and working with a mama who was particularly physical. I didn't wander more than a few steps from her during the entirety of her labouring. As she moved into transition, she began to hang from my neck with each powerful contraction. She wrapped both arms around me and swayed and moaned. We moved together for a long time like this.
I was getting really tired and looking for a way to step away for a break. I'd forgotten about the oil in my bag until *BAM!* In a stroke of genius I thought, "I'll put some on my neck, so that the next time I hold the mama, she'll smell it and it will be soothing to her." Loving the smell myself, I put on a generous amount. I walked back over to the mama's bed and resumed support. One of the midwives had been mopping, and it was about this time that she turned on the big stand fan to dry the floor. I was standing close to it, and as I had been working hard and was pretty sweaty myself, I was thankful for the cool breeze.
All of the sudden, another midwife down wind from me shouted, "What's that smell?!" I have never heard this question asked by a member of the staff, and this was not an excited exclamation of delight. Nay, it was an expression of surprised disgust. She wrinkled up her face and lifted her chin to smell the air.
My own reaction was to lift my nose to the air and sniff in an attempt to help solve the mystery. Hmm, I don't smell anything unusual. Oh, wait...
Then it dawned on me. The oil!! She was smelling the oil and found the foreign odor repugnant. My spuce and frankincense weren't delighting her like I'd hoped. In fact, they were having the opposite effect.
Internally incredulous, I thought, "What smells? Are you serious?? You work in this ward, and you're asking what smells?" I wanted to laugh out loud, but knew I would have to explain myself. I hurried away and wiped the oil off my neck as best as I could. I never confessed that I was the source of the offensive waft. The smell lingered a little and I was glad, but I'm sure the midwives were turning up their noses long after I left.
I have since taken the oil out of my bag and enjoy it at home. To the sweet friend who sent it: You are a gem, and the ladies here have no idea what they're missing. I look forward to learning how to use the oils with laboring mamas who are more familiar with things like clary sage and peppermint.
*raise your oil bottles in solidarity*
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