I believe in Karma. I also believe in the prospect of pre-arranged contracts with the ones we love and those in our lives. Sometimes they stay, sometimes they go, but always with a lesson. Sometimes they stay forever because they are family.
I have a difficult time sometimes with Karmic contracts that keep us in a perpetual cycle of suffering. What is the lesson to be learned? Can we help another person or are we doomed to relive the past over and over without end? How much of another's suffering must we endure before we cut ties and can we ever truly walk away? These are challenges we all face, but we must ultimately grapple with the answers and the consequences of our actions.
What did we do in another life together? Can we be done hurting each other? Can the suffering end?
I love you.
Denora
Sunday, March 23, 2014
Saturday, March 22, 2014
In Memoriam: Judy Harrow
I first met Judy Harrow at my first Sacred Well Convention in 2010. My best friend and I had decided to go together and there were probably 80 or so people there. We ended up in the same cabin as roomies.
My first impression of her was curious--this woman was clearly respected in our community but I had not heard of her. She had a soft voice and a wisdom that drew me to her. As the weekend went on we listened to her around the fire or I caught small conversations with her about the Goddess and what it means to be a priestess. I remember her telling me about drawing down the moon and what that's like. After the conference I bought her book "Spiritual Mentoring: A Pagan Guide" and found that to be very insightful.
Throughout the years I have come to understand the threads that are woven in our community starting with our elders. They are the ones who have walked the path before us, but we are the ones who will carry the torch in their absence. Judy will leave many behind who have benefited from her teachings and her presence, including me. I can't say it any better than Taniquetil: "Sister Cliendori, may the Ferryman guide you safely to the Summerland."
Here is a Patheos post on her passing: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/themediawitches/2014/03/sad-sudden-loss-of-a-pagan-elder-rest-in-peace-judy-harrow/
Here is her information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judy_Harrow
My first impression of her was curious--this woman was clearly respected in our community but I had not heard of her. She had a soft voice and a wisdom that drew me to her. As the weekend went on we listened to her around the fire or I caught small conversations with her about the Goddess and what it means to be a priestess. I remember her telling me about drawing down the moon and what that's like. After the conference I bought her book "Spiritual Mentoring: A Pagan Guide" and found that to be very insightful.
Throughout the years I have come to understand the threads that are woven in our community starting with our elders. They are the ones who have walked the path before us, but we are the ones who will carry the torch in their absence. Judy will leave many behind who have benefited from her teachings and her presence, including me. I can't say it any better than Taniquetil: "Sister Cliendori, may the Ferryman guide you safely to the Summerland."
Here is a Patheos post on her passing: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/themediawitches/2014/03/sad-sudden-loss-of-a-pagan-elder-rest-in-peace-judy-harrow/
Here is her information: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Judy_Harrow
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
The Children Dilemma
I don't want the title of this post to be misleading in any way. I love children. In fact, I have one of my own. I love him more than life itself, but I would be lying to you if I told you it was all sunshine and rainbows all the time. My best friend re-posted an article on Facebook and I had to write a post about it because this has been on my mind for a few months now:
http://thoughtcatalog.com/jamie-berube/2014/02/you-shouldnt-need-a-reason-for-not-having-kids/
This article touched on those who make the choice not to have children at all, but I want to add a group to this--the "one and done" folks. Folks like me who are seriously considering stopping with just my son.
But why stop at one? Aren't I afraid he'll be lonely? Doesn't he deserve a sibling? Won't he be spoiled? What happens if something happens to him?!
See, the inappropriate questions don't just stop if you're considering not having one at all. After you've had one the assumption is of course you'll add to your flock, and if you don't you're selling both yourself and your offspring short.
Here's a thought: the more I look at my little family, me, my husband, and my beautiful son--the more I realize I can devote so much to him that I wouldn't be able to do with more. All of my time, all of my resources, all of my love. He can do more recreational things in school because I can afford it if he wants. He can go to better schools if he wants. The cost of living is expensive in the Northeast. And then there are the reasons that are taboo to talk about...I want my body back. This birth was so hard on my mental state, emotional stability, and my body. I have a thyroid disorder, I'm on antidepressants for post-partum depression. I miss the way my marriage used to be so effortless and now it's a little strained. I love breastfeeding him but it is so hard while I travel for school and the ANG. And I'm trying to jumpstart a career. I did seven years on active duty and now I want to do something meaningful for me.
So yes, I might be selfish. But ask yourself what is more selfish--bringing another human being into this world to fit some arbitrary ideal that there should always be more than one per family for "balance" purposes, or taking an honest assessment of my abilities and resources and devoting everything I have to what I have? Think about that next time you want to make any comments on a woman's decision to live her life with children or without.
Denora
http://thoughtcatalog.com/jamie-berube/2014/02/you-shouldnt-need-a-reason-for-not-having-kids/
This article touched on those who make the choice not to have children at all, but I want to add a group to this--the "one and done" folks. Folks like me who are seriously considering stopping with just my son.
But why stop at one? Aren't I afraid he'll be lonely? Doesn't he deserve a sibling? Won't he be spoiled? What happens if something happens to him?!
See, the inappropriate questions don't just stop if you're considering not having one at all. After you've had one the assumption is of course you'll add to your flock, and if you don't you're selling both yourself and your offspring short.
Here's a thought: the more I look at my little family, me, my husband, and my beautiful son--the more I realize I can devote so much to him that I wouldn't be able to do with more. All of my time, all of my resources, all of my love. He can do more recreational things in school because I can afford it if he wants. He can go to better schools if he wants. The cost of living is expensive in the Northeast. And then there are the reasons that are taboo to talk about...I want my body back. This birth was so hard on my mental state, emotional stability, and my body. I have a thyroid disorder, I'm on antidepressants for post-partum depression. I miss the way my marriage used to be so effortless and now it's a little strained. I love breastfeeding him but it is so hard while I travel for school and the ANG. And I'm trying to jumpstart a career. I did seven years on active duty and now I want to do something meaningful for me.
So yes, I might be selfish. But ask yourself what is more selfish--bringing another human being into this world to fit some arbitrary ideal that there should always be more than one per family for "balance" purposes, or taking an honest assessment of my abilities and resources and devoting everything I have to what I have? Think about that next time you want to make any comments on a woman's decision to live her life with children or without.
Denora
Sunday, February 2, 2014
Imbolc: Behold the Return of the Sun
The wheel of the year turns now to the coming of Spring and the shedding of Winter. It is Imbolc, Midwinter, and the face of the Goddess returns to her maidenhood. Here in the Northeast we are facing the threat of another snow storm--winter has not yet had its final say.
The days have been getting longer, the sun a little warmer in between bouts of snow. If you walk outside and listen hard enough you can almost feel and hear the trees and grasses stirring. Spring is coming. Geese are coming back. Birds are hailing the return of the sun. In our hearts we can feel the seasons changing and it brings us hope.
This is the time of year to think about resolutions. Generally we made those around January 1st--bright promises to lose weight or get a new job or buy a new car--but by now reality has set in and let us know if we were a little too ambitious. Now is the time to light the candles and open a window to let some fresh air in after the dark winter. We are looking forward to this year and all that comes with it.
This is the day of Brigid, mother of the flame and of poetry, healing, smithcraft, and midwifery. We honor her this day and light the sacred flame:
We honor you blessed mother, waters of life being renewed
We honor you young stag and sun child, eagerly awaiting your coming
The Sacred Wheel Continues to Turn,
We are reborn in the light of the new day
As a Pagan in modern times it is essential for me to connect with the energies of life and earth around me which keep me grounded. All too often we are running so fast we forget to stop and feel what our mother is saying to us in her own way--Spring is coming. Life is returning. The darkness is subsiding and my children can rejoice once more. Modern practices allow us to remember the symbolism of ancient rites. I light a white candle on this day to represent the Goddess and her sacred flame, reminding me to take the time to breathe and rejoice in the coming of the new day.
The days have been getting longer, the sun a little warmer in between bouts of snow. If you walk outside and listen hard enough you can almost feel and hear the trees and grasses stirring. Spring is coming. Geese are coming back. Birds are hailing the return of the sun. In our hearts we can feel the seasons changing and it brings us hope.
This is the time of year to think about resolutions. Generally we made those around January 1st--bright promises to lose weight or get a new job or buy a new car--but by now reality has set in and let us know if we were a little too ambitious. Now is the time to light the candles and open a window to let some fresh air in after the dark winter. We are looking forward to this year and all that comes with it.
This is the day of Brigid, mother of the flame and of poetry, healing, smithcraft, and midwifery. We honor her this day and light the sacred flame:
We honor you blessed mother, waters of life being renewed
We honor you young stag and sun child, eagerly awaiting your coming
The Sacred Wheel Continues to Turn,
We are reborn in the light of the new day
As a Pagan in modern times it is essential for me to connect with the energies of life and earth around me which keep me grounded. All too often we are running so fast we forget to stop and feel what our mother is saying to us in her own way--Spring is coming. Life is returning. The darkness is subsiding and my children can rejoice once more. Modern practices allow us to remember the symbolism of ancient rites. I light a white candle on this day to represent the Goddess and her sacred flame, reminding me to take the time to breathe and rejoice in the coming of the new day.
Monday, November 11, 2013
Variation on the Word Motherhood
My very best friend introduced me to a wonderful poem by Margaret Atwood titled "Variation on the Word Sleep." I loved it so much I asked her to read it at my wedding, but my favorite line goes something like this:
"I would like to give the the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief at the center of your dream, from the grief at the center. I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary."
Motherhood reminds me of something like this dichotomy. I want to protect my child from the world, yet I realize in time I must simply be the foundation upon which his independence took root--that unnoticed and yet that necessary. To do anything else is to disrupt what I fear is the delicate balance of life.
Another friend of mine recommended a book to help me struggle through the first few weeks of motherhood. I had what the modern day medical institution likes to term "baby blues" but what I would deem to be full on post partum depression mixed with "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing or what's going on" syndrome. The book is called A Life's Work: On Becoming a Mother by Rachel Cusk and it was momentous in helping me understand what I was going through was normal even though it felt about as far from normal as anything I've ever experienced. Motherhood in its infancy is messy and terrible, and this book does a pretty good job of highlighting some things you've thought about but never wanted to discuss: http://www.amazon.com/Lifes-Work-On-Becoming-Mother/dp/0312311303/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1384194412&sr=8-2&keywords=a+lifes+work
I've taken the liberty of highlighting some of the most powerful quotes that for me summed up everything in how I was feeling. I still can't say I'm over everything and running on all cylinders. I can however say I'm taking it day by day. I am better than I was and I continue to find balance in this new life. Some of the things she says in her book are horrible. They may even border on taboo in so much that she holds nothing back in her transition into parenthood and what it cost her. I can't say I haven't shared some of her thoughts...but these are the inner struggles of a very personal nature. I still wouldn't change anything.
"If parental love is the blueprint for all loves, it is also a re-enactment, a revision, an investigation of self-love. When I care for my child I revisit my own vulnerability, my primordial helplessness....Love is more respectable, more practical, more hardworking than I had ever suspected, but it lies close to the power to destroy."
--I am constantly shocked at the capacity of the human heart to love. Just when I feel like I can't possibly love my husband any more than I do I see him interact with our son and I love him all the more for being a wonderful father. The day my son came into this world my heart and the center of gravity of my world suddenly shifted to this tiny creature. It is exciting and frightening to think how much of me is wrapped into this cosmos of my family, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
"There is in truth no utterance that could express the magnitude of the change from woman or man to mother or father, and in the absence of definitive statement the subject becomes peopled with delusions and ghosts, with mis-apprehensions and exaggerations and underestimations, becomes separated from the general drift of human conversation, so that parenthood is not a transition but a defection, a political act."
--I constantly reflect on the change that happens when you become a parent. Suddenly the things that mattered so much before really have no bearing. You also become one of "them"--those individuals who seem obsessed with their children and that's all they can talk about. It isn't all of me, but it has become so much of me that to not talk about it is to not acknowledge the single most important shift in my life.
"Caring for him is like being responsible for the weather, for the grass growing: my privileged relationship with tie has changed, and though these tasks are not yet arduous they already constitute a sort of serfdom, a slavery, in that I am not free to go. It is a humbling change. It represents too a reckoning of my former freedom, my distance from duty. The harness of motherhood chafes my skin, and yet occasionally I find predictable integrity in it too, a freedom of a different sort: from complexity and choice and from reams of unscripted time upon which I used to write my days, bearing the burden of their authorship. It does not escape me that in this last sentiment I am walking over the grave of my sex. The state of motherhood speaks to my native fear of achievement."
"I couldn't spend a Saturday morning reading, that I couldn't stroll unfettered in the warmth of a summer's evening or go swimming or wander down to the pub for a drink. The loss of these things seemed a high, an exorbitant price to pay for the privilege of motherhood; and though much was given back to me in the form of my daughter it was not payment in kind nor even in a different coin, was not in fact recompense of any sort."
--I can't say this prison of my own making isn't uncomfortable. It's like trying on a new skin and realizing nothing about you is the same. The ups are new types of up while the downs are the deepest darkest recesses of hell. Labor and delivery constitute a test of which when passed only charges you head on into a new and complex existence that you aren't prepared for. Nothing prepares you for this.
"I know it is the hardest work I have ever done I worry that my execution of it has been somehow flawed and unauthentic, a burned offering, a botched canvas. Perhaps it is only children who confer upon their parents this meaning I feel myself to lack...I vow to own my feelings of inadequacy and in authenticity. I vow to end this succession, this history of ruler and ruled, here with me."
--The intense primal desire to do well, to have an impact on this precious life and so to give your life meaning is the reason for continuing. These variations on motherhood are the paint that fleshes out the canvas of our existence. Without these depths we are nothing. But they are terrifying in the light of one's internal reflection. I have only begun the great work of shaping not only my son's life, but striving to understand my own.
Denora
"I would like to give the the silver branch, the small white flower, the one word that will protect you from the grief at the center of your dream, from the grief at the center. I would like to be the air that inhabits you for a moment only. I would like to be that unnoticed and that necessary."
Motherhood reminds me of something like this dichotomy. I want to protect my child from the world, yet I realize in time I must simply be the foundation upon which his independence took root--that unnoticed and yet that necessary. To do anything else is to disrupt what I fear is the delicate balance of life.
Another friend of mine recommended a book to help me struggle through the first few weeks of motherhood. I had what the modern day medical institution likes to term "baby blues" but what I would deem to be full on post partum depression mixed with "I have no idea what the hell I'm doing or what's going on" syndrome. The book is called A Life's Work: On Becoming a Mother by Rachel Cusk and it was momentous in helping me understand what I was going through was normal even though it felt about as far from normal as anything I've ever experienced. Motherhood in its infancy is messy and terrible, and this book does a pretty good job of highlighting some things you've thought about but never wanted to discuss: http://www.amazon.com/Lifes-Work-On-Becoming-Mother/dp/0312311303/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1384194412&sr=8-2&keywords=a+lifes+work
I've taken the liberty of highlighting some of the most powerful quotes that for me summed up everything in how I was feeling. I still can't say I'm over everything and running on all cylinders. I can however say I'm taking it day by day. I am better than I was and I continue to find balance in this new life. Some of the things she says in her book are horrible. They may even border on taboo in so much that she holds nothing back in her transition into parenthood and what it cost her. I can't say I haven't shared some of her thoughts...but these are the inner struggles of a very personal nature. I still wouldn't change anything.
"If parental love is the blueprint for all loves, it is also a re-enactment, a revision, an investigation of self-love. When I care for my child I revisit my own vulnerability, my primordial helplessness....Love is more respectable, more practical, more hardworking than I had ever suspected, but it lies close to the power to destroy."
--I am constantly shocked at the capacity of the human heart to love. Just when I feel like I can't possibly love my husband any more than I do I see him interact with our son and I love him all the more for being a wonderful father. The day my son came into this world my heart and the center of gravity of my world suddenly shifted to this tiny creature. It is exciting and frightening to think how much of me is wrapped into this cosmos of my family, but I wouldn't have it any other way.
"There is in truth no utterance that could express the magnitude of the change from woman or man to mother or father, and in the absence of definitive statement the subject becomes peopled with delusions and ghosts, with mis-apprehensions and exaggerations and underestimations, becomes separated from the general drift of human conversation, so that parenthood is not a transition but a defection, a political act."
--I constantly reflect on the change that happens when you become a parent. Suddenly the things that mattered so much before really have no bearing. You also become one of "them"--those individuals who seem obsessed with their children and that's all they can talk about. It isn't all of me, but it has become so much of me that to not talk about it is to not acknowledge the single most important shift in my life.
"Caring for him is like being responsible for the weather, for the grass growing: my privileged relationship with tie has changed, and though these tasks are not yet arduous they already constitute a sort of serfdom, a slavery, in that I am not free to go. It is a humbling change. It represents too a reckoning of my former freedom, my distance from duty. The harness of motherhood chafes my skin, and yet occasionally I find predictable integrity in it too, a freedom of a different sort: from complexity and choice and from reams of unscripted time upon which I used to write my days, bearing the burden of their authorship. It does not escape me that in this last sentiment I am walking over the grave of my sex. The state of motherhood speaks to my native fear of achievement."
"I couldn't spend a Saturday morning reading, that I couldn't stroll unfettered in the warmth of a summer's evening or go swimming or wander down to the pub for a drink. The loss of these things seemed a high, an exorbitant price to pay for the privilege of motherhood; and though much was given back to me in the form of my daughter it was not payment in kind nor even in a different coin, was not in fact recompense of any sort."
--I can't say this prison of my own making isn't uncomfortable. It's like trying on a new skin and realizing nothing about you is the same. The ups are new types of up while the downs are the deepest darkest recesses of hell. Labor and delivery constitute a test of which when passed only charges you head on into a new and complex existence that you aren't prepared for. Nothing prepares you for this.
"I know it is the hardest work I have ever done I worry that my execution of it has been somehow flawed and unauthentic, a burned offering, a botched canvas. Perhaps it is only children who confer upon their parents this meaning I feel myself to lack...I vow to own my feelings of inadequacy and in authenticity. I vow to end this succession, this history of ruler and ruled, here with me."
--The intense primal desire to do well, to have an impact on this precious life and so to give your life meaning is the reason for continuing. These variations on motherhood are the paint that fleshes out the canvas of our existence. Without these depths we are nothing. But they are terrifying in the light of one's internal reflection. I have only begun the great work of shaping not only my son's life, but striving to understand my own.
Denora
Tuesday, October 22, 2013
The Seasons Change
It's been five weeks since I gave birth to my son.
It's amazing how much things can change in even five weeks. I look outside and the leaves are changing and falling from the trees. The temperature has noticeably fallen and there is a distinct smell of autumn in the air whenever you walk outside. The squirrels are constantly eating and storing up for what I'm guessing is going to be a cold winter. In my mind I remember all the way back to January when I first learned I was pregnant and think...where did this year go? I spent the entire summer as big as a house and now here we are. This leads me to the next lesson along the path--seasons change.
My last post wasn't very sunny. I've been working through the intense emotions that come with leaving a seven year career and becoming a stay-at-home mom, not to mention the marathon that is pregnancy and delivery and new motherhood. I am horribly sleep deprived and on the steepest learning curve of my life trying to navigate the needs of this new life in my arms. There are days where I resent my decisions, not because they are bad but because in a way this feels like voluntary imprisonment and insanity. There are moments that make up for all of it--when my little one smiles at me and giggles it makes all of the craziness seem worth it. My point is I'm a work in progress. This life I'm building is some massive construction site and the bricks and mortar are laying everywhere. But the seasons are changing. I realized yesterday as I took my first jog around my block ever so slowly that my body despite being bent all kinds of ways is still healthy and strong. It's going to take a hell of a lot of work to get me back to where I was pre-baby and I may not even get there. The days of being (relatively) effortlessly in shape may be behind me. But this is the new season of my life as a mother. I read a very sobering article on post partum body image here: http://www.lalecheleague.org/nb/nbsepoct00p156.html
The same goes for the stay-at-home part. I read a fantastic article on that here: http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/10/09/youre-a-stay-at-home-mom-what-do-you-do-all-day/
It helps me put these things into perspective when I stop thinking about all the things I gave up to stop working and think instead on all the things I'm gaining by being with my little one every day. I don't have to pay for daycare sure, but I also don't have to agonize over someone else raising my child and me only getting time with him on weekends. I realize everyday that the little signals he gives to let me know he needs something are his own language, and I can care for him better because I recognize it. I also think of the bonds we're building and I am crazy thankful everyday that my husband is hard working and loves his family and I can raise our kids.
These are the seasons of my life. They constantly change. But I'm getting slowly better at being OK with that.
Denora
It's amazing how much things can change in even five weeks. I look outside and the leaves are changing and falling from the trees. The temperature has noticeably fallen and there is a distinct smell of autumn in the air whenever you walk outside. The squirrels are constantly eating and storing up for what I'm guessing is going to be a cold winter. In my mind I remember all the way back to January when I first learned I was pregnant and think...where did this year go? I spent the entire summer as big as a house and now here we are. This leads me to the next lesson along the path--seasons change.
My last post wasn't very sunny. I've been working through the intense emotions that come with leaving a seven year career and becoming a stay-at-home mom, not to mention the marathon that is pregnancy and delivery and new motherhood. I am horribly sleep deprived and on the steepest learning curve of my life trying to navigate the needs of this new life in my arms. There are days where I resent my decisions, not because they are bad but because in a way this feels like voluntary imprisonment and insanity. There are moments that make up for all of it--when my little one smiles at me and giggles it makes all of the craziness seem worth it. My point is I'm a work in progress. This life I'm building is some massive construction site and the bricks and mortar are laying everywhere. But the seasons are changing. I realized yesterday as I took my first jog around my block ever so slowly that my body despite being bent all kinds of ways is still healthy and strong. It's going to take a hell of a lot of work to get me back to where I was pre-baby and I may not even get there. The days of being (relatively) effortlessly in shape may be behind me. But this is the new season of my life as a mother. I read a very sobering article on post partum body image here: http://www.lalecheleague.org/nb/nbsepoct00p156.html
The same goes for the stay-at-home part. I read a fantastic article on that here: http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/10/09/youre-a-stay-at-home-mom-what-do-you-do-all-day/
It helps me put these things into perspective when I stop thinking about all the things I gave up to stop working and think instead on all the things I'm gaining by being with my little one every day. I don't have to pay for daycare sure, but I also don't have to agonize over someone else raising my child and me only getting time with him on weekends. I realize everyday that the little signals he gives to let me know he needs something are his own language, and I can care for him better because I recognize it. I also think of the bonds we're building and I am crazy thankful everyday that my husband is hard working and loves his family and I can raise our kids.
These are the seasons of my life. They constantly change. But I'm getting slowly better at being OK with that.
Denora
Wednesday, October 2, 2013
The Untold Story
I wrote quite a bit during my pregnancy because for me it marked one of the most influential and amazing periods of my life. To this day I still marvel that my body was able to grow another living human and bring him successfully into the world.
Today I'm going to write on a bit of a darker topic. This by no means diminishes the joy and love I feel when I hold my son in my arms, but there are things that need to be said because I feel we as a society don't talk about certain topics or we brush over them and minimize their effect--then we wonder why so many people dance the line of suicide or worse. I'm writing as a way to cope with my own inner dialogue, and hopefully my words ring true enough to help someone in the future either talk to a friend or manage their own inner dialogue.
The first thing I want to address, and something we don't talk about is labor and delivery of humans. Women in America are exposed to an over-dramatized idea of what labor is like, how long it takes, and how painful it is--driving the majority of them to seek some sort of external pain management either through an epidural or by c-section. I have my own feelings about the ability of a woman's body to do something it has done without medical intervention for millenia, but for the sake of keeping this simple I will just limit it to saying I gave birth naturally with no medical intervention. I was very blessed to have an outstanding birth team (both midwives and my doula) and I labored for thirteen hours with my son. No one tells you how excruciating, frightening, wonderful, and empowering this experience can be. Women no longer tell you the empowerment behind birthing another soul because they are so afraid of the process and hospitals have capitalized on continuing to feed that fear. In the throws of labor a woman meets her maker and finds out the absolute limits of her body. It is a terrifying experience and one that leaves you scarred, but also gives you the most satisfying sense of accomplishment. In the end though you are reduced to a shaking, sweating, painful mess no matter how you give birth. This rite of initiation into motherhood is just the beginning.
The next thing I want to address is the aftermath. They say that "baby blues" are the normal fallout following childbirth as your system fights to regulate the cocktail of hormones that flowed through you both during pregnancy and labor. People come and go, bring you food, hold your baby, offer to cook for you and help you clean, and you are an emotional mess. You are ridiculously in love with this small human, and yet your body is now inextricably tied to its survival. You cry for no reason, you just want to be by yourself, you hate the changes in your body, and you are now a slave to this lifestyle. You don't sleep, you can't have sex, and despite your best efforts sometimes the baby just cries and cries. You have lost yourself in the folds of this new life. It feels like you're drowning. If this goes on for too long it's labeled as depression and people become uncomfortable. They want you to seek medical help.
No one tells you these things when you become pregnant or before. Well, I'm putting these things out there. My life is forever changed. I am grateful beyond measure, but stop minimizing my experiences to Hollywood versions of labor and shining happy parenthood afterwards. I feel like there are many women who go through this and not enough resources that don't involve psychologists and medication. When you are silently suffering on the inside the last thing you want is to explain yourself to every person who asks how you're doing.
Denora
Today I'm going to write on a bit of a darker topic. This by no means diminishes the joy and love I feel when I hold my son in my arms, but there are things that need to be said because I feel we as a society don't talk about certain topics or we brush over them and minimize their effect--then we wonder why so many people dance the line of suicide or worse. I'm writing as a way to cope with my own inner dialogue, and hopefully my words ring true enough to help someone in the future either talk to a friend or manage their own inner dialogue.
The first thing I want to address, and something we don't talk about is labor and delivery of humans. Women in America are exposed to an over-dramatized idea of what labor is like, how long it takes, and how painful it is--driving the majority of them to seek some sort of external pain management either through an epidural or by c-section. I have my own feelings about the ability of a woman's body to do something it has done without medical intervention for millenia, but for the sake of keeping this simple I will just limit it to saying I gave birth naturally with no medical intervention. I was very blessed to have an outstanding birth team (both midwives and my doula) and I labored for thirteen hours with my son. No one tells you how excruciating, frightening, wonderful, and empowering this experience can be. Women no longer tell you the empowerment behind birthing another soul because they are so afraid of the process and hospitals have capitalized on continuing to feed that fear. In the throws of labor a woman meets her maker and finds out the absolute limits of her body. It is a terrifying experience and one that leaves you scarred, but also gives you the most satisfying sense of accomplishment. In the end though you are reduced to a shaking, sweating, painful mess no matter how you give birth. This rite of initiation into motherhood is just the beginning.
The next thing I want to address is the aftermath. They say that "baby blues" are the normal fallout following childbirth as your system fights to regulate the cocktail of hormones that flowed through you both during pregnancy and labor. People come and go, bring you food, hold your baby, offer to cook for you and help you clean, and you are an emotional mess. You are ridiculously in love with this small human, and yet your body is now inextricably tied to its survival. You cry for no reason, you just want to be by yourself, you hate the changes in your body, and you are now a slave to this lifestyle. You don't sleep, you can't have sex, and despite your best efforts sometimes the baby just cries and cries. You have lost yourself in the folds of this new life. It feels like you're drowning. If this goes on for too long it's labeled as depression and people become uncomfortable. They want you to seek medical help.
No one tells you these things when you become pregnant or before. Well, I'm putting these things out there. My life is forever changed. I am grateful beyond measure, but stop minimizing my experiences to Hollywood versions of labor and shining happy parenthood afterwards. I feel like there are many women who go through this and not enough resources that don't involve psychologists and medication. When you are silently suffering on the inside the last thing you want is to explain yourself to every person who asks how you're doing.
Denora
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