From my experience, pregnancy is a contradictory phenomenon. It’s the most profound expression of nature’s magic and is, simultaneously, the most common process known to man.
I don’t believe I have adequate knowledge to begin making claims about what a mother should or shouldn’t do, think or not think, experience or not experience during pregnancy and childbirth. I do, however, have decades of experience exploring the limits of my own physical body, (mostly by pushing it too far), as well as researching my psychological and emotional behaviour.
I’ve spent thousands of hours quietly listening to the other realms that make up this world. I wouldn’t claim to understand them, though I admit that I have a naturally intuitive gift to listen.
I have also spent thousands of hours overthinking multiple aspects of life, philosophising about whether there is a possible meaning associated with every occurrence, (typically to my detriment).
I, like everyone, have survived numerous uncomfortable life lessons.
I have (reluctantly) acknowledged these humble moments as opportunities and have (reluctantly) chosen to spend over twenty five years attempting to unravel my psyche. I’ve luckily been guided by many incredible spiritual mentors and therapists; thus, enabling me at times to access an internal intelligence beyond that which seems to exist in my surface thoughts.
Some days, if I’m feeling grounded and balanced, I have developed the ability to communicate with ancestors who have passed, (sometimes anyways, I definitely don’t label myself as a psychic medium).
I have come to understand a lot about energy and how it, in itself, is an entirely unique aspect of life that society is only beginning to acknowledge.
I presume that for thousands of years, indigenous populations around the globe have dedicated generations after generations listening to the earth and to spirit, connecting with nature, especially plants and animals. They have somehow attuned to a subtle intelligence so that they can, very simply, continue to survive and flourish.
In a connectivity-addicted world, it’s extremely challenging to find a quiet space not yet interrupted by information highways bombarding the ‘purer energetic comms’.
It’s challenging, but not impossible.
In my opinion, listening requires practice, patience and a lot of time. These days, people don’t like to hear that something is going to require a lot of time, (myself included). In my opinion, this is one of humanity’s greatest misfortunes, potentially a catalyst for our very own demise.
There appears to be many excited, positive and open-minded people developing an ability to listen. Maybe they are sensing the more subtle earthly elements and may feel drawn to share what they see? I salute the curious who are dedicated to learning more about themselves and nature. I also observe what I like to cheekily label as the ‘millennial spiritual hipsters’ and I’m reminded of the advice offered from one of my most respected yoga teachers:
Birthing a beginner student requires a minimum of twenty years of committed daily practice, coupled with the survival of numerous life experiences, and a sourced ability to respond in a conscious way.
Two decades into my personal spiritual research, I couldn't agree with him more. I’m very hesitant to be drawn into wellness communities where claims are being stated on an hourly basis for ways to clear your energy or connect to a higher vibration because the host has completed a three month online course. There’s nothing wrong with doing a course, but I definitely tip toe around those making absolute claims after very short periods of experience.
It seems to me like many of these ‘instantaneous gurus’ are lacking the experience (called time) that enables the most potent and humble guidance system (called wisdom).
Spiritual bypassing is a confusing and abusive by product of this trend. I cringe when I observe some of the unfounded allegations being made, yes with seemingly positive intentions, but completely lacking practical facts, emotional responsibility and compassion.
Because of these observations, I’ve felt terrified to share my own learnings, even when they have a solid foundation, stemming from years of curiosity and practice. As a result, I must conclude this:
I’m still a student. Let this be clear. Absolutely a student. Perhaps at times, also an ignorant, egotistical and biased one. This being said, I am coming to terms with the fact that I know that I have developed through personal experience of successes and failures and time, adequate tools and resources to share what I have learned not as an expert but as a beginner student.
So how does this relate to pregnancy and childbirth? Well, it seemed essential to offer an intro and disclaimer prior to delicately sharing one of my theories about creating a human and bringing him or her earth side.
Insert Noah.
At about age thirty-five, I finally admitted to myself that I wanted to have a baby. I’m forty-one now and have a gorgeous two year old maniac of a son. It took me a while to get my head around the request for service that parenting entails. I wasn't sure I had it in me to give up my life, freedom, career, time, etc. Little did I know how incorrect this view was, (this story for another day).
Around this time, as the concept of becoming a mother floated through my psyche, I recall sitting in meditation and seeing a little boy. He had white blond hair and was playing in the water out front of my local beach. I swore he must be mine.
Life proved me wrong, this little white-haired boy was in fact my precious nephew. I was fortunate to hold my sister's hand as she accessed an unfathomable inner strength to help him take his first breath of air.
My nephew played on that very beach during the first year of his life. I then experienced visions of two other children and I was baffled with who they were and I questioned my intuition, (as I have many times before). I hesitantly stored these visions in the back of my mind.
It was only a year and a half into my relationship with my fiance when I saw my son. He whispered in my ear for about six months prior to his arrival. I asked him to advise me when I was ready to become a parent and when he wanted to come. I asked and heard nothing. I asked again, still nothing.
It was nearing the Christmas holidays and I was beginning to write off this imaginary soul whom I felt a deep connection to, when suddenly one morning, I sat quietly and I heard a voice whisper, ‘Now’.
My fiance and I discussed beginning to try for a child, well aware that being in our late thirties, it could take a while to conceive.
A month later, I was pregnant.
I knew that my son had a fiery energy the second his cells began to multiply. I loved having him in me and I was aware that I was being challenged on every physical, mental and emotional level. I vomited for nine months until the day he arrived. Once I held him in my arms, I felt entirely myself again and thus began the fourth trimester, another adventure in itself...
As I attempted to prepare my mind, spirit and body for the raw opening that is childbirth, I became privy to the realisation that I needn’t hold one hundred percent responsibility for what was about to take place.
What I’m referring to is different from what my midwife advised. She asked me to envision my ideal birth and be open to change as the process is unpredictable on the day. From a practical perspective I completely understood this, but from an emotional or embodied place, I was feeling detached. Between the urge to vomit and a desire to crawl underneath my blanket, I tried desperately to meditate. Despite my inability to feel intuitively connected, one day I was gifted an explanation of how this thing called ‘birth’ seems to work:
My baby will have the birth he or she needs to have for his or her life. I can do every preparatory exercise imaginable to prepare for the most calm, surrendering experience and yet, I will only be in control of half the birthing experience and result.
I was both shocked and relieved to understand that I was only in control of part of this process. I’ve always really liked to control things, still do. A part of me hated the idea that one of the most important moments of my life was only half within my control. The other part of me who puts constant pressure on myself was finally allowed to exhale.
The beneficial result of trying on this gifted concept was that I absolutely had no choice but to start taking some of the pressure off of myself. I’m highly esteemed at setting intentions and high expectations, followed by criticising my results and feeling deeply guilty if things don’t go exactly to plan. Actually, I’m quite excellent at this!
Pregnancy was different for me. Noah was asking me to give myself over to him on every level. Being sick and therefore, unable to do very much at all, forced me to surrender in a way I never had before.
The beliefs I held about exercise and achieving were destroyed during the months I held my son inside of me. He did not let me get away with my old ways of thinking and doing. The teaching was non-negotiable.
Unfortunately, now that he’s in the outside world, I have reverted back to some of my psychopathic perfectionist tendencies and I’m keenly aware of my behaviour and I’m doing my best to soften. Some days I get it right and feel like I’m momentarily able to rest.
If there are any other mothers right now, preparing to welcome their child into the world, and are feeling a degree of pressure to perform during childbirth, let me offer a consideration (not advice), just a learning from my experience:
It’s not all on you.
Is it possible, as a mother, to become deeply quiet to listen to our children to let them enter as they choose?
My birth story was exquisite and, according to my hopes and expectations, I did a number of things wrong. Although I still harbour guilt for some of these ignorant choices, the truth is, I believe that Noah entered exactly as he was supposed to, with my fiance and sister exploding with awe.
If I could do it all again, this is what I’d propose to myself…
Can you become so quiet that you allow your child to be heard? Can you take some of the pressure off of yourself? Can you let your baby guide you during the process? Can you trust your power and instincts? Can you let what happened be complete just as it is?
To remain humble, it’s possible that my beliefs about how a mother welcomes her baby into the world aren’t accurate.
These insights only relate to my personal experience of becoming a mother. I would never assume that anyone else has the same observations. If it resonates and helps in some way, fabulous. If it doesn’t, then I’m perfectly content to keep the theory as mine alone.
This being said, I’m still happy to share what these beliefs offered me:
Within this moment coupling extreme power and extreme surrender, I was taught how to apply faith itself.
Maybe, this was one of the rare moments when I truly embodied the concept called trust.
A part of me sometimes argued my beliefs, assuming that every mother has a duty of care to her unborn child to ensure the safest and most peaceful entry into this world.
As much as this concept also feels true, I personally experienced an overwhelming sense of Noah’s determined spirit even when he was only a few cells. I wouldn’t dare to remove the willpower from the spirit of my baby either. Babies are undeniably life and love in its purest undisturbed form and who really knows how this whole life thing works anyways?
For me, childbirth seems to request this…
May the willpower of the soul be coupled with the listening, strength and surrender of the mother; thus, for even a brief moment, coupling the most transformational elements of nature itself.
To all the mothers and soon to be mummas out there, I believe that you know what to do and you are amazing!
Xx