Aside from the moment of one’s death, I don’t know if there’s anything more spiritually transcendent than giving birth. It’s a sacred process where the portals of two worlds collide, requiring an abundance of vulnerability, trust, and intrinsic maternal strength. As a mother, you can only hope that those attributes stay with you throughout your journey of matrescence. I know I did.
But at some point, I checked out. I saw only what I was lacking inside. Maybe that’s why I took so long to touch this threshold again. There’s this thing I do when I’m close to getting everything I want - I panic and get in my own way about it. I relentlessly self-sabotage to satisfy some internal script that repeatedly tells me I don’t deserve to have it so good. Maybe that’s what happens when you’re born a self-punisher.
All this to say… I wasn’t sure I’d ever get to do this again. Funny how life turns out, isn’t it?
I’ll never forget the potent amalgamation of joy and relief I felt moments after delivering my last child. She didn’t cry right away. The doctor said “look at the cheeks!” and remarked what a big baby she was, and I knew with every part of me she was okay.
And life suddenly slowed down.
My body flush and warm from the analgesics and oxytocin flow. My baby girl’s plump little body resting against my breast. My partner watching us attentively. Our world changing in a blink.
It’s been a little over two weeks since we welcomed our girl, and it still feels so surreal. Everything that’s happened over the past few years just seems to make sense now, you know?
When you’re building a life, there comes a point when you need to stop looking so hard at what’s happening on the horizon. You’re probably already in the thick of something perfectly designed for you. I wish I’d always trusted that. I wish I’d known this darling girl was waiting for me somewhere down the line. Now that she’s here, she’s helped me feel so at peace.
She’s my safe haven… here in human form at long last.
