Losing Myself

Losing Myself

“ Until you’re broken, you

don’t know what you’re

made of. It gives you the

ability to build yourself

All Over Again, but

Stronger than EVER”

My life revolved around June, she was my world my everything. I forgot my husband existed, in a small way I blamed him from making my choice to be induced. (Silly me it was my choice.) All jokes aside I held this baby until she was six months old she slept in bed with Rex and I until she was fourteen months old. I carried this crazy guilt surrounding her birth, I was so hard on myself. I could not forgive my first words, I could not forgive the loss of control at her birth. It haunted me for years, it ripped my marriage apart it stole my spirit from me.

I let this happen to myself, there was no one else to blame. Being my first baby I had no clue what I was doing. I just knew it was my job to take care of her and left my husband idling in park at the curb outside of our house. Poor guy with him dumped out with the garbage. Now that I am in metaphor mode, I straight up treated him like garbage. Which came right back to me, I deserved it. I didn’t see it at the time but Juney’s birth experience was molding my life, I was letting it control me.

Here it goes, I never really talk to anyone about this. I was living with a hidden post partum depression, I was embarrassed to talk about it. After all in 2012 the c-section rate was 33% in the US, I was just one of millions of women suffering from this after shock. We should all just get over it right? It is so common after all, sweep you feelings under the rug with the rest of the women, right? Wrong, wrong, and wrong! Probably the worst thing we could do to ourselves, and the worst thing I could have done for myself and my baby.

 

Inspiration to a Home Birth

“She believed

she could

so

she did.”

“It always seems

impossible until it is done.”

-Nelson Mandela

I was now pregnant with my second child, June was about fifteen months old. I opted out of the traditional hospital birth.  In spite of my first emotionally, physical pounding, life wrenching experience. My sister, Jenny had just had her first home birth with her third son weeks before I found out I was pregnant. When I first heard mention of her having a home birth my immediate response was. “What are you crazy or something?” It was the unknown, it was not normal, it was tabu. Only Crazy hippies had their babies at home. People who had no idea what they were doing had their babies at home. I pictured her with blood soaked towels and her husband catching the baby everything in dismay. Wow! I was misinformed as many americans are. In third world countries this is a complete norm.

In the 1800s, when a Chinese woman would begin labor she would be accompanied by the prayers of her mother and her mother-in-law to help aid in a “easy” delivery. A Taoist priest would arrive and whisper soothing prayers into the laboring mother’s home. When it would come time to deliver her baby, she would squat on her bed. Once her baby was born into the world, her midwife would cut and bind the umbilical cord, and then gently encourage her placenta to be born . Her newborn baby would not be bathed for three days, until all sights and feelings of evil had dissipated from the newborns surroundings. Yes that is a little intense, but what our country has created as a societal norm and what other countries norm is, it is quite different.

My inspiring sister Jenny and her best friend Shay had both experienced happy, healthy home births.

With post partum in my shadows. If you are not familiar with the term postpartum depression or PPD is a temporary depression that comes along with pregnancy and birth. There are two different kinds one is the early onset, most often referred to as the “baby blues.” These “baby blues” are the most mild case and affect up to 80% of women after they have their baby. These blues usually clear up a couple of weeks post birth without treatment. The post partum depression PPD is much more severe and affects 10% to 16% of women. For me I had severely sad thoughts, thought I wasn’t good enough, that I was a failure, that I could never do anything right, the list goes on and on. The most severest cases are women having thoughts of hurting themselves or hurting their baby. I was lucky my PPD never got to that point.

My thoughts and feelings softly slowed after witnessing my sisters harmonious home birth and hearing about her best friend Shays successful home birth. With my second pregnancy at hand, I had a chance for a fresh start. A whole new beginning, I still could not seem to free myself from my downward thoughts.

After experiencing my sisters most amazing, beautiful, real life “natural” birth, my eyes were opened. There were other options out there. It was amazing it was filled with love, water, intense labor sounds, uplifting words, peaceful music. Her home was filled with trust, love and so much peace. A pot of miso soup was on the stove, there were soothing sounds of nature. We made her washcloths with essential oils, lavender and vanilla scented. Everyone who was there was there because they loved Jenny. The calm and peacefulness and the amount of love that filled her home it was incredible. Her children were even present. It was the polar opposite of my bright piercing lights, Pitocin in an I-v, vomit filled, terrified with every inch of my being, circus room filled with strangers dressed in blue, hospital birth. To be continued…My friends!

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