This post is about a different kind of birth. The birth of a mother. There’s a quote I love so much, I use it often when I talk to new moms, because it describes this new birth so succinctly. “The moment a child is born, the mother is also born. She never existed before. The woman existed before, but the mother, never. A mother is something absolutely new.” - Rajneesh (I have no idea who that is, I found this quote on pinterest)
My birth into motherhood, happened both instantly the moment he was laid on my chest, and gradually, through sleepless nights and cuddles. But mostly it started in the bath. The first time I was ever alone was 3 days after Theodore was born. A friend had given me a bunch of herbs and salts to make a healing bath, and Dan offered to take Theodore so I could just soak my wounded body. For the first time in 3 days, time stood still, and I treasured the time to just glide my hands through the water, and let it piece together my confused soul. I had time to pray, to ponder, and go to a deep place within myself that the flurry and beauty of newborn baby can so easily distract from. There in the stillness, I realized that not only was this the first time I’d been alone in 3 days, but 9 months rather. Over the months, he’d grown, a part of me. His kicks, hiccups, and somersaults were mine. He was my little buddy, who woke me through the night, who made me waddle, and who added a roundness to my tummy, face and ankles that wasn’t once there. Everywhere I went, he went. But yet, here I was, in the bath, alone. It was eery at first, I’ll be honest. But as I began to think about it, my attention turned to study my body. I cautiously felt one stitch at a time, and was in AWE that my body had BIRTHED the living being in the other room, the perfect little creature came safely into the world, and my body was so strong to do it! I would touch my empty belly, and it felt hollow, so gushy. I thought about what it meant, the hollowness, that it was all mine again, which I felt both liberated by, and deeply sad and lonely about. I felt space to just be, to just breathe. My baths often led to tears of release. Release of emotion that I couldn’t describe. Amazement that mentally and physically I'd birthed him, and could continue to breastfeed through so much pain and challenge after challenge. Amazement that God made my body with the capability to grow, birth, and nourish a human. Amazement that my own mother did this for me. Amazement at the gift of marriage, and who Dan had become to me. He SO selflessly gave of himself during this season, and I couldn’t have done it without him. I was amazed at the power of a hug, our family, the 3 of us, my favourite blessing. And in those moments of being alone, of my body being a home for one individual soul again, I realized that this was my birth into motherhood. That this motherhood was just mine. And that every day I would be birthed into it again and again.
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AuthorI'm a farm girl living in the city, a daughter, a sister, a wife and a mother. I love the simple things in life, and love to share them with others. Archives
February 2017
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