It was the sensation of noticing my breath during the delivery of my daughter that I became aware of how my body will be changed forever. As she was lifted from my belly and they were cleaning her up, I noticed my breathing becoming more challenging. I asked the anaesthetist and she reassured me that the epidural would not effect the nerves going to my diaphragm because they were in my neck (which I know and so felt relief), but that the pressure is off right now because they’re sewing me up. It was like a light bulb went off as they sewed me up, I was breathing for the first time with this new body. It’s not really a new body, but it felt like it after 24 hours of labour, getting to 8 cm dilation to only be told that baby was not coming down and that my care was being transferred from the midwives to the hospital staff. Waves of shift changes came through my room as so many different nurses came in to help me prepare for surgery. As they wheeled me to the operating room my husband made a joke and I laughed; I wish I remember what he had said, but the drugs they had given me were making my brain foggy. Blessed to stay conscious during the deliver and that my husband was by my side, we were in and out within 20 minutes! I am so grateful! Juniper was placed on my chest and latched right away. She was taken away with my husband as I was left in ‘recovery’ for a few more hours than planned. The thought that my life was still at risk didn’t even come into my foggy brain, all my thoughts were on the fact that she had come to this Earth healthy. I bled for over a month after she was born and my moon cycle began again after 8 weeks.
My pregnancy was normal up until the full moon before going into labour; she was born under the new moon. I began to really notice how the lunar cycles mirror my own state. I began a journal to record my cycle and the moon and discovered an overarching cycle that I experience where my ovulation and menstruation shift from new to full moons throughout the year. It was in this observation that I found so much of my healing. Allowing myself the space and time to be in different cycles of life. Entering motherhood in this way was not my plan, I had hoped for a home birth in water, but as the due date approached all those ideas went out the window and I ended up being induced and hooked up to IVs at the hospital. After she was born I turned to my husband and said, “I don’t want to do this again!”. Since then I’ve had waves of wanting to conceive again, and waves of wanting to only have the one child. I’ve realized that this is the way my cycle flows as it shifts with the cycles of the moon.
I’m learning to slow down and listen to my rhythm as a way of honouring my divine feminine and my role as mother. I can be more present when I take care of myself and try not to fit into any social norms about what a mother should be like. I allowed my house to get more cluttered and laundry to pile up so I could take the time I could to practice yoga. To slow down and listen to my body and to let myself grieve the birth I wanted and the children that may never come. To cry, to dance, to journal and draw all the feelings that arise. To realize my own strength in this story and to continue to cultivate that deep knowing within myself of the higher meaning behind all this. To touch myself and my scar and to allow the sensations to be felt.
It will probably be a part of my story that won’t ever fully heal, but nothing really does. My experience has shown me that when challenges arise, it’s not so much about overcoming them but rather learning to live with how that challenge can change me. I will always have a scar from the birth of my child, it will potentially cause some physiological changes with the fascia in that area and I will always be mindful of reducing the adhesion. Though, the work will never be finished, it’s not an end destination, it’s the epitome of being on the path. I am grateful for the doctor who lifted my daughter from my belly, for the nurses who cared for me during my short time in the hospital, for the midwives for the postnatal care, for my family and friends for their ongoing support, and for my husband for standing by me the entire time.
Jyoti Solanki @jyotigini
Decidí dar a luz sin anestesia porque como dice una amiga: “Prefiero 5 minutos de Hell. Que 40 días en Purgatory”.
No. No di a luz en una bañera. Di a luz como la mayoría de las mujeres de estos tiempos. En la camilla del hospital. Pero eso pasó muchas horas después.
It was the sensation of noticing my breath during the delivery of my daughter that I became aware of how my body will be changed forever. As she was lifted from my belly and they were cleaning her up, I noticed my breathing becoming more challenging.