some moments are painful emotionally while others rate higher on the physical or psychological scale. all in all, i feel it's all part of the package deal of being a parent. some scars heal faster than others, some can be seen and others felt. for me, my biggest scar remains in my inability to fully express how much i enjoyed birthing to those around me. i feel like there is an incredible level of comprehension, listening, repsect and compassion for women who had a traumatic or difficult birth experience. on the flip side, i've found myself feeling quite lonely when speaking of my experience. sometimes, you could almost hear a pin drop. like no one wanted to keep talking about it. and yet, it seems ok to perpetuate this horrible image of birth. almost like those who had an amazing birth should keep from talking it out of respect for those who didn't have such an amazing experience... and frankly, i'm annoyed.
don't get me wrong, every birth story, every mother becoming a mother is a sacred event in any woman's life. every story and experience should be cherished and shared. but not just the bad ones. what about those women who have orgasmic births? or those women who birth in 15 minutes flat, from beginning to end? what about other women, like me, who enjoyed the rite of passage that was the pain in birth? why can't there be more talk about that and less talk of c-sections, 40-hour labors and forceps? why is it that i feel bad and cut back on details when speaking to a woman who's had a traumatic birth? why is it that most of what i hear is women telling other women how horrible birthing is, how painful it is, how a man could never withstand that type of pain, how birthing is the equivalent to every bone in your body breaking, how you might as well just get the epidural right away cause there's no way you'll endure it... come on,really?! what's the point? to further condition people into being scared? to convince mothers to get epidurals faster? to get fathers on edge before even entering the hospital? i don't think i ever will understand this ever-growing culture where women - strong, positive role model-material women - become horrifid infants at the thought of birthing. which mind you, is the most empowering, feminine, loving, selfless and powerful thing i've ever done.
we are doing to ourselves what doctors did to women years ago when they tried shoving midwifery aside to bring birthing into hospitals and away from the safe haven that is your home: they scared the living daylights out of women and managed to convince them to let go all of their ability to take a decision on their own and to birth on their own. people speak of epidurals like they were some sort of magic drug that allowed you to have your child faster. quicker. easier. but who ever said birth was supposed to fast, quick and easy? your birth will be as good as you let it be. if you let it be. if you have faith in yourself instead of someone else. let the pain overcome you, let it come back and know that every time you feel a painful contraction, it's just your child getting that much closer to you.
i'm sorry but i don't respect my mother MORE because she painfully gave birth to me. i respect her because she gave birth to me. period. she carried me for 9 months (and then some...sorry mom for those extra 11 days), she birthed me naturally, she breastfed me (sorry about that, too!), she raised me, she taught me pretty much everything i know, she encouraged me and rooted me on through thick and thin, she's loved me unconditionally since the day she first laid eyes on me... for these reasons i'm forever grateful. hearing her birth story has brought me closer to her, has given me an insight as to what type of person she really is outside of being my mother and helped shape my opinion on how i wanted my own birth to happen. i didn't need that story to see her as a superhero. she already was just that in my eyes.
my grandmother gave birth to a breeched baby. her first child. 36-hour long labour. in the woods. in a trailer. alone, with no family around. all my grandfather was allowed to do, was stand outside and smoke cigarette after cigarette - listening to his wife scream. i've heard this story time and time again. and if i were to list a list of 1000 reasons why i love, cherish and respect my grandmother, i don't even think this story would come up.
and for as long as i've lived (ok, it really hasn't been that long but it just sounds good when i say it like that) i've never heard either my grandmother or my mother hang either story over the head of their respective children. i've never heard them tell their stories with a frown or with frustration. so what makes us need to do so? what's changed from then until now? what pushes people to say things like, "you know a man could never survive that type of pain?!". honestly, who cares? what does that have anything to do with... well, anything really. it's silly and childish and frankly, quite pointless.
oddly enough, i thought writing this would make me feel better. that it would take a weight off my shoulders and that this was the perfect place to let loose and unleash my deepest thoughts and feelings - yet, as i'm writing this, i'm already imagining some of you curse at your screen. please, know and understand this: i respect everyone's story. i might not understand what some of you have been through but i think the same can be said about me. or anyone else for that matter. everyone has their own story. their personal experience. their vision. and that's fair. what i feel isn't fair is tainting someone's experience before they even got to live it themselves. what isn't fair is making birth out to seem like some bad dream that you need to be sedated for. what isn't fair is making it seem like we are superior beings and only we could ever survive such an ordeal... yet not doing it ourselves. what isn't fair is making a choice before even knowing what birth will be like. what isn't fair is becoming a slave to the medical community and relinquishing all ability to make decisions for ourselves and for our child.
birth is a voyage on which both you and your child will embark on together. it will make you an entirely different person and embellish the person you already were all at once. birth brings people together and shows us the true meaning of unconditional love. it brings out the best - and worst in us. embrace it. enjoy it. relish in it. love it. respect it. believe in yourself. in your body. in your child. accept the pain. it's a tiny price to pay to fully experience a miracle first hand. and remember: if you're sedated but your child isn't, didn't you guys just two take different roads, one bumpy and the other not to so much, to meeting each other? that really doesn't seem fair.
J'ai accouché de mon premier enfant au mois de mars dernier. Récemment, en discutant avec un amie qui en était à ses derniers jours avant sa ''date prévue'', je me suis surprise à lui parler comme ''celle qui était déjà passée par là''. Je me souviens très bien de mon accouchement, j'y repense encore souvent, j'en ai parlé autour de moi comme on raconte un voyage mais jamais je n'avais eu l'occasion de léguer à une autre femme des conseils de cette expérience qui pour moi était du vécu. Je me souviens très bien que dans les minutes qui ont suivi la naissance de ma fille, je me suis retrouvée seule, quelques minutes avec elle dans mes bras. Pour une fraction de seconde ( si courte que je n'arrivais même plus à m'expliquer mon propre raisonnement la minute d'après ) j'ai été frappée, littéralement, par une éclaire, une délivrance et je me suis dis à ce moment précis; c'est donc pour ça, la douleur! Ça sert à ÇA la douleur!
ReplyDeleteC'est durant cette conversation avec cette amie que cette éclaire m'est revenue. Je me suis surprise à dire que j'avais aimé ma douleur et que j'étais reconnaissante envers cette douleur parce que c'est ELLE qui m'a guidé. Si je n'avais pas eu la douleur, je n'aurais pas sur comment accoucher, je n'aurais pas su comment pousser. C'est tout simplement cette douleur qui montre la voie puisqu'aucune femme ne sait comment mettre un enfant au monde temps et aussi longtemps qu'elle ne l'a pas vécu. J'ai choisi de vivre un accouchement naturel, avec une sage-femme pour me guider. J'ai choisi de vivre un accouchement dans la douleur, sans savoir réellement pourquoi. J'ai choisi d'être celle qui savait mieux que les médecins et les infirmières comment gérer ma douleur et comment mettre au monde mon enfant. On m'a regardé bizarrement, probablement jugé, trouvé un peu hippie de choisir délibérément la douleur quand on peut maintenant demandé de ne plus rien sentir. Le récit de mon histoire n'est en rien un jugement envers le choix de certaine femme. Je respecte leur décision. Toutefois, toutes ces femmes qui ont ou auront prochainement la vie en elle et qui auront à faire certains choix doivent savoir que la douleur de l'accouchement ne tue pas et qu'elle sauront trouver son utilité. Mettre un enfant au monde apporte bien des changements dans une vie mais le plus grand changement ne se trouve pas dans le manque de sommeil, les changements de couches et le manque de temps. Ce changement se produit dans notre corps. Notre corps qui a su mettre tout en oeuvre pour créer la vie et pour la mettre au monde et qui maintenant porte les marques de ce merveilleux moment. J'ai choisi de faire confiance à ce corps et tout comme toi, je suis du nombre qui ont été bien servie.
Et tout comme toi, avant de faire une fixation sur notre propre douleur, je crois qu'il faut prendre quelques secondes pour réfléchir à la possible douleur que notre enfant doit lui aussi endurer et qu'il ne peut exprimer par autre chose que des pleurs. Penser à cette étape qu'il ne pourrait franchir sans notre aide et notre poussée. C'est la première poussée que nous donnons à notre enfant. La toute première. Ne devrions-nous pas avoir la chance de nous la remémorer?