A mother of a journey

March 17, 13

As I sit, my roots borrowing deep into the earth, my chest cavity fit to burst with feeling, images flash before my closed eyes. Two ambulances, my mother’s purple sweater, a seventh attempt to enter weak hand veins which keep blowing out, the warm light of an old cottage lamp, the dark blue of A’s eyes, worried and loving, the white institutional cotton/poly blend sheets, his dark naked body carried carefully to the NICU table. Sensations flood me, like the bliss from the pot of boiled water emptied nearby as it washed towards me in the pool taking away the pain, the strong rhythmic pressure of a good friend’s hands on my aching back, the cool blue plastic under my chest as I hang over the edge of the pool, the grip of a hand in my hand, the feel of a needle and thread through tender skin, the warm, incomparable feeling of my baby on my heaving chest. The actual contractions and pushing and vacuum extraction have all been wiped from my memory already (truly), but the rest remains. The visions of me, on a charging black stallion, thundering through the woods of each wave of contractions, hitting bull’s eye targets in the trees with the fierce focus of my bow. The sound of my low mama moan, throat hoarse. The wonderful release of my bag of waters at 10cm dilation followed by the agony and slumped shoulders all around from finding it impure with meconium (baby’s poo in utero). My boy was not to be born in that small blue sea. A graceful acceptance of the truth, of movement, of choosing to flow with the changing tide. Singing, singing, humming, moaning, focused, not going to push him out into an ambulance. “Baby Beluga” coming to my lips on repeat, over and over (why don’t we listen to anything but Raffi??). Goddess chants come too, drumming an inner beat. Then so much pushing, feeling so tired, losing faith, seeing a cascade of interventions laid before me, or lurking like a demon in the shadows, waiting, waiting… “Why run away from the places that scare me, when fleeing just feeds the fear? Boldly choose openness and love” (a Soulful Song by Wendy). Finally, 3 hours of pushing later, I welcome the vacuum, beg for it to release me and my boy from our unmedicated travails. We are strong and proud, but strong enough also to ask for help. We are already in love and yearn for each other’s company in this world. We are ready to begin this next journey, together.

Blessed be the introduction of baby Daniel into the world, and into our family. He’s been a long time coming. Welcome baby D. Thank you for choosing me to bring you here. Sweet one, it is my honor to feed you, nurture you and raise you to be whomever you are. We’ll love you forever.

E (Maman)