The Birthing

Nothing ever really prepares you for the experience of motherhood—nothing. None of the books I’d read, the birth plan I meticulously created, the countless blogs and youtube videos or the well-meaning advice of family and friends were enough.

Feelings of major anticipation, joy, and anxiety were all present, especially as my due date approached. I was in labor for 48+ hours. By the time my water broke and I was finally admitted to the hospital and ready to have my daughter, I was exhausted, my birth plan had gone out the window, and due to a string of unexpected complications with both my and the baby’s health, an emergency c-section was the only way guarantee a safe delivery. This was the beginning of the release.

The Release

In the early hours of August 28, 2017, my daughter was born. Although I was excited for her to have arrived, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. The build-up of months of a challenging pregnancy and delivery had taken their toll. I wanted and needed to rest, but felt pressured to be doing. I also couldn’t ignore the disconnection I felt from myself, even beginning in those first few days of motherhood. Everyone’s energy and attention had shifted to my daughter, including my own.

Adjusting to the newness and responsibility of a little person’s complete reliance on me for food, safety, nurturing and healthy development became the focus. Daily, I was adjusting and re-learning myself in the process. The tears flowed on more than a few days, as the woman who I’d been before pregnancy floated further and further into the distance. The realization that my moment-to-moment decisions wouldn’t just impact me was super weighty—I had a physical representation to remind me of the impact I had.

In the midst of my rising to the occasion of motherhood, life was unfolding. Job issues were magnified and my relationship with my daughter’s father had dissolved. My expectations shifted along with the adjustments I had to make. I decided I wouldn’t and couldn’t get lost in the challenges. Moving forward became a form of wealth.

The Becoming

I contended with the thoughts of the new life I was discovering. With each milestone, I promised myself I’d celebrate. I’d began therapy, as a way to nurture myself. I got back to journaling. I allowed myself to unfold so I could become.

I danced.

I sang

I cried.

I mourned—and then I let go. The act of fully letting go wasn’t the sad feeling I’d expected. It was the release and rebirth I needed to bloom in a new stage of my life. One that required me to be myself, more freely and more completely than I ever had before.

My womanhood and my motherhood were co-existing in harmony, instead of in conflict. I welcomed myself to my new found freedom.