On this Labor Day, I’m thinking of my sister-in-law. She’s due any day now, with her and my brother’s first child. By now she’s probably feeling the groans of her joints and ligaments that are oh. so. ready to welcome a new life into the world. She’s probably looking around the rooms of their home and finding every little detail she suddenly wants to change, shift, mold into the kind of home she wants to raise her baby in. And I also imagine she’s probably nervous, wondering what the feelings of labor will be, how much her body will be able to take.
Photo: Pure Happiness Photography
It’s been over three years since I have felt those familiar aches and pains. Over three years since a little gymnast flipped and flopped all over my bladder. I remember being nervous, too, even with my second delivery. My first with Cora was so long and arduous, I was terrified I would buck the norm and have even LONGER subsequent deliveries. But with three years of hindsight, I appreciate the lessons labor gave me, even though it also gave me stretch marks and searing pain. Just being honest, y’all.
(Note: If you haven’t heard my birth stories, click to read Cora’s part one and part two, and Issa’s part one and part two)
Here’s three things labor taught me:
1. You can do this. You ARE doing this.
I don’t care what it is. Any daunting challenge I face now is immediately countered with: but I gave birth, so this is nothing. If you can make it through that, you can make it through anything. If your body can grow a human, there’s essentially no limits to your potential. I tell this story all the time, but at the toughest point in my labor with Cora, I cried to my midwife Jennifer that I couldn’t do it. She looked me dead in the eye and said, “You can do this. You ARE doing this.” Essentially, her message was this, and I think it applies to so many facets of life: You are far more powerful than you believe. I know you are capable because you are already in the midst of this challenge, and look at you: you’re still standing.
2. You have to let go.
When you try to control and contain a contraction, or rush as I called them with Issa, it’s so much worse. As with many, many problems in life. When I try to squeeze it and make the issue go away, it only grows in intimidating fashion. When life throws you pain or hurt, feel it and let it go. Welcome it in, touch it, study it, and then say goodbye. You have better things to do. Like welcoming a new life into the world. View pain as an opening, a window through which you can grow.
3. You know you best.
Choosing a natural, midwife-led birth, especially at home like we were with Issa, is still unconventional in American society. For more FAQ’s we get about this, click here. It’s scary doing something that goes against the grain. Especially for this rule follower right here. But the first taste you get of trusting your own instinct is intoxicating. You suddenly realize there is no “right” path in life. There is only the relationship between you, your faith, your family, and your gut. If all those things are in alignment with that warm and fuzzy feeling that this is the right path, then it is. The rest is just noise. And my labors taught me that. It was exactly what I needed to find my own inner strength. The strength I would need to breastfeed each baby for two years. The strength I still need when Orlando’s gone for his basketball seasons. Heck, the strength I need on a conference call with a big potential client.
Photo: Pure Happiness Photography
When I get scared, when I get overwhelmed, I remember back to three and six years ago, when my body did something amazing. When I pushed myself further than I ever dreamed I could. When I leaned on my family, my husband, and my birth team to have my back and help me through. I will never be able to forget the lessons labor taught me, because they are burned into my brain just like the moment those precious babies entered the world. That final rush of pain, for a lifetime of happiness. That’s worth it.
Pain, life, bad, good. It’s all worth it.
XO,
A
P.S. My fellow women, I know some of you may be reading this and feeling the hurt of an empty womb. Or a labor that did not go as planned. Please know you, too, have all the feminine power I am speaking of and more. This is just my story, but it does not make yours any less powerful.
P.P.S. Jess, you’re going to do great.
