Beyond the physical
The other day I was sharing one of my birth stories with a new friend. I was recalling how when I was in labour with Lauren, I arrived at the hospital only to be told it would likely be another 8-12 hours til delivery. Lauren had other plans and decided to come within the hour which meant that an epidural, or any pain relief for that matter, were not possible. When I asked the nurse for some pain relief, she tried to reassure me by saying, “No, sorry hun, but very soon, you’re going to be a mom!” as if those words would provide me comfort! Sheer panic came over me. In that moment, the idea of becoming a mom was FAR scarier than the act of delivering the baby without pain meds.
Up until then, I had discussed a quasi-birth plan with Simon, indicating some of my hopes and expectations. We had packed a hospital bag, asked around about what to bring with us (flip flops for the shower were a MUST!). But never did anyone share how I might feel. Moreso, no one told me that panic, worry, and even fear were a normal part of the experience. There was no conversation beyond the physical aspects of birth, and yet, the biggest piece for all mothers is typically beyond the physical. Yes, there is physical healing to be done after birth, and there are medications, treatments, etc. But do you know the most challenging part of that? Telling a mother to rest, slow down, and do less when all she has ever known and been recognized for is what she DOES.
Many of my clients express this as one of the more unexpectedly demanding aspects of early motherhood - filling days with doing less (and yet somehow more?), recognizing the need to prioritize their own rest as a means of supporting their baby. It feels counterintuitive and requires a great deal of untangling and rewiring. Even 10.5 years after the birth experience I described above, I still find that uncovering these kernels of wisdom is incredibly validating and healing. Although I wouldn’t describe my birth experience as traumatic, this realization creates new meaning of that experience, one that allows me to see both myself and birth differently, one that offers me a greater capacity to support other mothers on their journey. As the brilliant Nikki McCahon said in a recent post:
“Understanding matrescence can change the way a mother sees herself and her experience. It allows her to recognize that she is undergoing an enormous transformation that involves both challenge and joy, loss and gain. It lets her know that it’s ok for these feelings to co-exist within her experience of motherhood.”
What mother doesn’t deserve that?!
