Re-birth

I haven’t been writing here much.  Mostly because I’ve been writing so much on my yoga blog.  And truly, the Challenge has been taking up a lot of my energy.  Both in the area of blogging and just overall.  But I felt like I should take a little time to write something that had little to do with sweating, or postures, or dialog, or Bikram.  Just something from me.

I had a conversation yesterday with a dear, old friend whom I had lost contact with.  It was lovely to speak to him again.  He and I went to high school, church, evertything together.  Kind of like a brother to me, really.  But as life goes, our ways parted for a long time.  But what has been interesting as I speak with him is how eerily similar our lives have been.  All these years gone by and we’ve had very similar life experiences.  We spoke about Faith, growing up in stringent religion.  We discussed our disillusionment with the status quo and how we both had to reach a real crisis before we could come back around to what we believed and who we really were.

We spoke very frankly with one another and I appreciated his candor.  I sometimes feel nervous to talk to people from my past, afraid of what they’ll think of what my life is now.  This is not to say I am in any way ashamed of who I am or the life I lead.  But there’s a shift in reality when the past Karen and the present Karen somehow merge in one interaction.  I often avoid these interactions, dreading the awkwardness that will ensue.  But speaking with Nic is the exact opposite of awkward and there’s a mutual understanding and respect between us that makes me thankful to have him back in my life.

Perhaps the most amazing thing drawn from our conversation was this idea of Re-birth.  I believe Nic and I have both experienced a veritable re-birth.  On many levels we have both shed a shell of a former identity, and emerged a new person.  Nic and I spoke about tolerance, compassion, and love – and the stark contrast between the way we identified with those things ten years ago and the way we do today.  We both agreed that “hitting bottom” spiritually is sometimes the very best thing that can happen.  But the real triumph is getting back up and being strong enough to find your way again.

I’ve never really understood fully why we have to go through these struggles to find truth.  But I know for sure that without shedding, dying, and re-birth – life gets incredibly stale.  We are constantly re-examining the Whos, Whens, and Whys of our life.  Isn’t that the point??  My dear, sweet friend Sean wrote a while ago,

Life isn’t just a cycle. It’s like a long run of parallel narratives, stories we keep telling with our days and our actions and our relationships, our diets, our brilliant plans, our mistakes, and even our successes. We never stop trying to live what we will be, what we want to be, nor do we stop living what we were, what we always have been.

So maybe in all of this there is a parallel truth. That we can become new and fresh. But we always carry the person we are and have been and will be. They’re all the same person. Even when the old one dies off and the new one is born. So, as Nic found me and we re-connected, we found that we were totally different people. Different and exactly the same. Maybe it’s the constant change that makes us identical. We both changed. Neither of us stayed the same. So in that, we were alike.

But at the end of the day, it’s comforting to have a friend like that. It’s comforting to know that we aren’t alone in our change. Change can feel isolating and scary. But having someone to lean on, to talk to, and who will listen is irreplaceable. And as the cycles of our lives, the births and deaths of self come and go, we can find common ground and know that regardless of the past and present we are ever connected and always the same.

Down came the rain..

This is a story I have never really told. It’s something I rarely tell anyone about. But it’s something that I have been thinking about. It’s part of my journey right now. And somehow I feel that by writing about it, and sharing it, I honor the memory of this terribly painful time of my life.

I think having children is a wonderful thing. I believe every child is a blessing. Pregnancy, birth, and babies are passions of mine. I love it, really. My first son, Simon, was a tough kid. He was born 2 weeks late, refused to breastfeed for weeks, and screamed for six months straight. He was tough. But I managed. I had mild depression with Simon. I found one of my best friends during that time, someone I still love and depend on deeply. But the cloud passed rather quickly the first time. And I rarely recall the real hardships of having him. My second son, Eli, was completely different.

Eli was born a bit late. His labor was horribly long and painful. I remember laying in my bed, right after he was born and just crying. He was finally here.. I was exhausted, and stayed that way for a long time. Eli was not a happy baby. He had a high-pitched scream that astounded anyone that heard it. It was one of the first noises he made and it made the hair on my neck stand on end. My husband commented about it the first time he heard it and could not believe such a small animal was making such a terrifying noise. Eli nursed straight away. He was seemingly starving all the time, endlessly fussy, and always unhappy.

The first few weeks of his life are a blur for me. I remember the midwives coming back to see me the next day after he was born. I remember him fattening up, and growing out of his baby clothes at an astounding rate. He was in perfect health. Gleaming and gorgeous. But he was so… unhappy. I remember trying so hard just to get him to stop. Just for a moment, I longed for him to stop screaming. Eli never simply cried, never the gentle “wahhh” of a newborn. Eli screamed with all of Hell’s fury. And to this day, if he makes that sound I feel every muscle in my body tighten.

Mothering, as it turns out, is far more than diapers, feedings, and naptime. I knew this, having had a former child. Who, as it was; proved to be a total angel for me during those early months. Simon would watch his brother scream, watch me panic, and sit so incredibly quiet and happy you would swear he was either deaf or a wax figure. It must have been a blessing straight from God. Simon was my Godsend. He went to sleep at naptime, ate his lunch, helped pick up toys, and brought me endless bottles of water when I was parked on the sofa nursing his brother. He was only 2.

What I didn’t know then was that I was waist deep in Postpartum Depression. I had no idea that my delirious frustration, rage, and anxiety was a chemical problem. I denied it. I only let a few people into my life during that dark time. I isolated myself at home, and I was desperately lonely. I prayed for the day I wouldn’t feel so resentful for having a child as difficult as Eli. I was lost, and felt that I would have this screaming infant forever. I never thought it would end. I coped with my depression in many many unhealthy ways. I ate poorly, watched too much TV and retreated into myself.

What nobody tells you about Postpartum Depression is how it always feels like it’s your fault. I always felt that somehow I was doing something wrong. I couldn’t get him to stop crying. I couldn’t make him happy. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t shower. I felt it was my fault. I was a terrible mother, and he would be forever scarred by my blinding incompetence.

That was over 2 years ago. Eli is now a happy, adjusted, and rarely makes “that noise.” What I have never told people is how alone I was. I never tell this story. I never talk about the hours of screaming. I never mention how I would lay him in the bassinet and walk outside and cry. That’s simply not something you talk about.

People wonder, why I don’t want more kids. They look at the two that I have, so healthy and perfect. I did have two very healthy pregnancies, and two relatively easy births. What nobody knows is about those six or seven months. And yes, it lasted that long. Those long, unforgiving months of hell. But I never find it appropriate to mention that in polite conversation. Somehow I doubt anyone wants to really know that.

There were many things that pulled me out of my depression. Yoga was the main thing. I firmly believe it saved my life. It gave me a reason to wake up, and try. I will never forget the profound difference I felt after that first class. I was a human again. And I will never ever forget to be thankful for that. My friends and family were always there for me. There were plenty of people I never reached out to that I should have.

For me, Postpartum Depression was a veil of darkness. It was a constant rainstorm. Even to this day, I feel scarred by it. Writing this feels raw and painful. I recall the endless days, nights, sitting and waiting. I would watch the clock for the second I knew Dave would be home. I would beg my sister to come see me, anything.. Anyone to be there, to help me not feel so alone. I was lost. I think many women are. They have no compass to help them.

What I hope is that by sharing the truth of my story, I can bring understanding. I am just one mother. But this is who I am. It is part of me, part of what makes me who I am. And now, my story is out there. And in that, I feel a little bit more free. And a whole lot less alone.

Balance

I come to this blog tonight not even sure what I want to say. It’s been a long week and a short week all at the same time. I have been doing so much this week and writing has kind of been on the bottom of the pile. I found out today that TWO, count it TWO of my close friends are expecting a baby.. TWO. Now, I don’t know about you, but finding out ONE person is pregnant is a big deal, but TWO? On the same day?? Incredible. And congratulations to both of you, who I will let remain anonymous, but I know you read and I am happy for you. Finding out someone is pregnant is always exciting. Like I said before, I’m a little nutty about pregnancy, and all the surrounding “stuff” and especially the birth.. Oh boy do I love birth. What I find interesting is how very different these two friends will be approaching their pregnancies. It’s going to be fun to watch, and amazing to behold (as new life goes..)

But all that said, I do NOT miss pregnancy. Not even a little. I had two fairly easy, healthy pregnancies. And that was quite enough for me. I love my children. Giving birth to them was beyond amazing. I am grateful each and every single day for them. I am so deeply in love with them I can’t even express it. But I know for sure I don’t want any more babies. It’s freeing really, not to be plagued (and I use this word intentionally) by the desire to have another child. I watch many friends long desperately for more babies. Some have more, some don’t. I know the ache full well. And I have empathy for those women and their partners. But for me, my pregnant days are behind me (as far as I can see) and with that resolution comes a freedom to be extremely giddy over other women’s pregnancies. Not neurotically of course.. More just, happy, and really really free to just be happy for them.

I am trying to find a way to balance some personal issues in my life. Part of it is my temper and part of it is self control. I think temper and self control are very closely related, and also separate all at the same time. I’ve always had a slightly bad temper. I tend to get frustrated easily and say things I don’t necessarily need to say (or mean to say). I want to find a way to tame this, to find some inner calm. Especially with my children. I’ve always thought children make the very best Zen masters. They are walking teachers, always testing us, always pushing us just enough (and sometimes too much). My two are the best at this, because they can in one moment make me fighting mad and the next second melt my heart with their smile. But I would love to learn to not let that anger boil quite so much. I’d love to learn to find the freedom to let things pass. To allow myself to feel, but not be held hostage by my emotion. I haven’t studied much about Zen, and if you have, please feel free to correct me. But I do believe that some part of Zen and even meditation is finding the space to experience without attachment. In other words, letting things happen without attaching to them. Feeling without reacting, heavy right?? And so hard. So, I’d love to work on this in regards to my temper and my emotions. Attached to that is the self control. Before I find that non-attachment, I have to learn a little more self control. It’s difficult, when you feel pushed into a corner to do this. I think martial arts students learn this skill. You have to find the other way, the way out that isn’t what you think. If you are backed into a corner, there is the obvious way out – force. Then there is the alternative, which is often negotiation and rethinking the situation that got you there in the first place.

I’ve learned a little bit about this through my yoga practice. Not reacting. Not letting the “stuff” irritate me. I am a very reactive person. I get hurt easily. I let things sting, and take things to heart a lot. It’s part of what makes me, well.. me. But I am working on it, and hope that somehow I can find more balance.. Because without the balance, all I’m going to do is fall over.

Namaste!

Reflections on birth…

So I saw this movie Juno today. It’s a beautifully quirky film about a young girl who gets pregnant at 16. She then decides to give the baby up for adoption. What surprised me about the movie, was the brutal honesty of the process. If you know me well, you know I’m kind of a freak about pregnancy and childbirth. Both of my children were born with midwives, one of them born at home. I believe birth is one of the most sacred rites of passage for a woman. And how a woman spends her pregnancy and the emotional state she is in affects her baby long term.. So, it was interesting to watch this movie. Juno, the young girl in the film immediately decides to give the baby away. Actually, her first decision is to abort the baby. But secondarily, she chooses adoption (after a grimy run in with a women’s clinic). I was surprised to see how easily she moved to this choice. Most of the time, movies focus on the hardship of choice. But this movie did not, and I was relieved to see it, because it left so much room for so many other emotions. Without giving the movie away too much, I can say that I was pleasantly surprised to see Juno make very tough choices and ultimately learn lessons I would hope most 16 year old girls don’t have to learn. Juno is haunted by her nagging desire to be loved, and she’s tortured not by being pregnant and in high school; but by the irrelevance of her influence on the baby. She’s a young woman whose ultimate destiny is to give away the baby she has grown, and ultimately birthed. Not entirely easy to swallow for me.

As a mother, I cannot imagine it. Granted, I was 23 when I conceived my first child. I had been married for close to 2 years, and I was certainly out of high school. But I think that really, most of that is just details. Because the instant a woman finds out she is pregnant, she changes forever. Even though the story was fictitious, and a movie, I was sad for the girl. Women across time have connected on the singular issue of reproduction. It’s one of the primal creative forces we have. We are women, created to nurture life. Like it or not. It’s who we are. I’ve never been particularly fond of the label that women get, “baby makers” or the idea that a woman’s sole purpose in life is to make children and take care of others. But nobody can deny it is a skill that women alone have. Men cannot do it. They cannot conceive, grow, birth and then feed and nurture a completely new life. It’s ours alone. So, as I watched Juno go through her pregnancy I was reminded of my own. Without telling you a long story about both of my pregnancies (which you may or may not want to hear) I will simply say this, nothing in the world prepares you for it and nothing in the world can remove its effect once it’s over. I believe even if I had given my son up for adoption (strictly hypothetically speaking, here) I still would always bear the marks both internal and external of growing that life in my body. Your heart is forever changed, inside and out, from such an event. Maybe that’s why pregnancy is such a Holy thing. It’s a miracle really, and everyone knows it. Growing life.. Life grows life. You can ask any woman who has had a baby, and she can tell you there’s nothing like the first kick, the first time you feel it move. There’s nothing like the first time you hear the baby cry. There’s nothing like the first touch, or the first time you hold that tiny life in your arms. Juno never holds her baby that we see in the movie. We never see her touch the baby’s face, or stroke his hair. It’s like the most heartbreaking thing. As a mother, it tears me apart.

I remember the first time I held Simon. I was exhausted and had no idea how on earth I had survived the ordeal of his birth. I remember my doula wiping my face and feeding me honey as I looked at him. I was weak, lightheaded from the birth, but at that one single moment, I became a mother. I heard him cry, and saw his fat body.. It was over, I was done for. I was never going to be the same.  Midwives believe that the first hour or so after birth are the MOST important moments for bonding.  Studies have shown that women who miss that time, due to traumatic birth, cesarean, or other causes, suffer higher levels of depression after birth.  They have a harder time dealing with feedings, and adjusting to the newborn.  I was there both times for that sacred hour.  With Simon there were people in and out looking at my new son.  With Eli, it was me and him..  I think it’s what makes us ready to cope.   I have heard (and seen represented in movies and TV) that many women who choose to give up their babies at birth refuse to hold their child after birth.  Perhaps we all know deep down that once we hold the baby.  Once our skin touches, and our eyes meet, it’s all over.  You can’t take it back.  It’s instant love.

I am always amazed at the power of birth.  I am amazed at the rush we feel.  Ask any woman to tell you about her birth and she’ll likely tell you that it was equally the hardest and most amazing thing she’s ever done.