..says the crazy-turban-lady with the funny name. Leading the prenatal yoga class I so fell in love with while pregnant w baby J. The class I was always too tired to do, since I then chose work before my health, well being, pregnancy and baby.
This will not happen again.
This is a new pregnancy. A new beginning. A new journey. And I have no room for fear. Stress. Anxiety. All the things that broke and splintered me last time.
I am a mother, a woman, a being, not a machine. I will not let this fast-paced modern world drive me away from the strength and innate wisdom of my body.
I can give birth.
I think of the trauma of the birth of baby J. And instead of feeling like a failure I choose to remember what a midwife told me afterwards.
There I was, in her office. Sweating, crying, traumatized, not been able to sleep for days. Baby J and wifey pacing the courtyard outside her office.
My story of the horrific birth was like a vomit. I could not stop it. I spewed it out all over this unknown, calm, sympathetic woman.
She said;
"...and despite of all this. You still gave birth to you baby."
Despite.
You.
Gave.
Birth.
And yes, this is what I now carry with me.
Despite of it all.
We had our triumph.
They did not rip my baby from my body.
They did all the things I asked them not to do. Bereft. Raped. I could not protect myself, nor my beloved baby. I failed as a mother. They took it all from me. They gave me drugs I refused, that made my body revolt in allergic reactions, they pumped me full with all the things I knew were bad for me and my baby. They stripped me naked and put me in hospital wear, though I had asked to wear my own clothes. They stripped me of all integrity and the last of my humanity. I was just a naked body to them. Another animal led to the slaughter. I was alone in utter darkness.
After my allergic shock to the epidural - that they told me I HAD TO HAVE for them to LET me rest after 2,5 day without sleep - they left me alone.
Alone for a while in that horrid room. And they all expected a cesarian. I knew it as certain as if they had said it out loud.
What they did say was:
"They (who? the doctors? refering to themselves in 3d person?) will not LET you labour for forever".
"The baby will not be born until earliest next night (= too far off = cesarian). "
And what did we do? Baby J and I?
When left alone I concentrated on my breathing, on relaxing. Wifey fell asleep in the other end of the room.
Baby J, perhaps feeling the change in environment and in my body when the room was empty of unknown people, pessimistic energy and hurtful interventions; moved down my pelvis.
I rested for a while; which I had asked to do the past 2 days, request being declined. Instead being stressed w interventions and medications to force forth my baby without my bodys consent.
After the rest I gave birth to Baby J in 45 min.
My baby and I.
We birthed.
I want to say unassisted. For what little I asked for (someone holding my leg which cramped) was ignored.
Instead I got instructions on how to push which I, in turn, whole heartedly ignored. My body was telling me what to do. There was no chance in hell I was going to listen to these people who had done nothing but hurt me and my baby.
"Is your contraction over?"
Asked the midwife.
"Yes", I said. Fully knowing it wasn't, and that she could see on the monitor that I was lying. I did not care. My body told me not to push harder, so I didn't.
"I know this hurts", the midwife said, repeatedly. Like a mantra.
"No, actually it doesn't so just shut the f*ck up and let me concentrate!" I thought. But said nothing out loud.
My baby was born without me breaking or tearing in any serious way.
I can't help thinking that if I had ignored my body and listened to them, I might have torn as badly as the other women I've talked to.
So what is left now?
I remember the terror.
The darkness.
The feeling of utter powerlessness.
I remember giving up and shutting down communication with the outside world, when I realised nothing I wanted or needed was respected. When I realised that these people were not going to help me, support me or believe in me and my birth.
When I realised that all I had left was myself and that single thought; "don't panic, try to relax."
I told myself the baby was not going to die. And I didn't really care anymore what happened to me nor my body after all the violations that had left me an empty shell. No longer connected or in control over what they did to my body.
And despite.
Despite all this.
I gave birth.
I birthed my baby. We did it together. Baby J. As strong as the fiercest gladiator. Never wavering, never an uneven heartbeat, never giving them an excuse to terminate our labour. Soldering on. My strong, calm little boy. We did it. They took it all from me. They hurt me in ways that left me scarred for life.
But this trauma can not take take from me that I did it.
I gave birth to my child.
Despite all they did to me, my body and my baby.
There is something stronger than fear.
And it protected us when I thought I had nothing left.
Love.
