gearhead mama

It’s hard for me to believe my eyes when I type that – I am already more than halfway to welcoming this baby to the world. Now that I am out of the first trimester, this pregnancy has been rather uneventful, gliding past me the way water slides down a mossy stream – effortlessly, quietly, peacefully … inevitably. Except for the worsening hip pain at night and the tumbling of my baby inside me, I sometimes forget altogether that I’m pregnant. I worry that this is a bad thing, because this is likely the last time I will grow another human being inside of me, and I wonder if I should be more aware and appreciative of what is happening, or if I should be doing more to prepare for the birth … reading, meditating, visualizing, affirming. And yet I keep returning to the lessons this pregnancy has held for me. Faith. Trust. Be.

I listened to a CD a month or so ago that is meant to help you communicate with your unborn child. It walks you through a chakra-opening meditation, then prompts you to open to your baby. You can ask questions if you have them, or just be willing to receive. I couldn’t think of any questions, so I sat and waited, and heard over and over that everything was okay, to relax and not stress out, that all was well. At the fourth chakra, I started to feel silly for not having any questions, but struggled to think of something that didn’t seem insultingly trivial. Finally I asked, Is there anything I can do for you? And swiftly came the reply: No mama. Is there anything you can do for yourself? I could practically see the baby shaking its head with an exasperated look on its face that said, “Haven’t you heard any of the things I’ve been telling you?” I smiled, chagrined, and thought okay, okay, I’ve got it. I need to take care of myself, think of myself. You have told me this in so many ways, and still it is difficult to believe that one can be a mother and also think of oneself. M taught (and still teaches) me to honor her, which is a necessary lesson, but I admit I sometimes go too deep. This baby is pulling me back, teaching me not to get lost in the process, to honor myself too.

It’s easy for this baby to do this, since it is benefiting from M’s lessons. When I was pregnant with M, the OB and I used to chuckle over her antics when she tried to catch her heartbeat with the doppler. As soon as it found M she was gone again, running away. I don’t think that’s funny anymore, and I wonder what the experience was like for her, how those waves felt as they drummed their way into her home, or if they hurt her in some way. During one of my ultrasounds I felt an uncomfortable tingling sensation on my belly and had to resist the urge to get up off the table and flee. It did not occur to me to wonder what M felt (then or the other three or four times), but I wonder now. Did she feel trapped, with no way to escape? Was the space that nourished and sheltered her suddenly uncomfortable and unwelcoming? Did she lose her trust in me? So for this baby there have been no ultrasounds, no doppler, nothing to invade or disturb the sanctuary of my womb. When the midwife pressed a fetoscope firmly against my belly a few weeks ago, she was rewarded only with a sharp kick, the percussion ringing in her ears. This baby wants to know, Why do you need to hear my heartbeat? Can’t you see my mama’s belly is growing? Don’t you feel me moving? Everything is just fine in here, thankyouverymuch.

Over and over I hear, “Yes, you must honor me, but then you can let go. You don’t need to hover or worry. You have given me exactly what I need – a safe and loving space – and now you can turn your attention to yourself. Remember you?”

And so I learn to trust, to believe, to listen to and remember myself, and in the process to let go of judgment and criticism. So when I wonder if I should be more aware of this baby, and how I might do that, I keep coming up empty. We share breath, food, body, life. Is that not enough? My baby is happy. I am happy. We flow through this life together just as we are meant to be. And so I decide that I am doing exactly what I need to do. Nothing further is needed.

And when I wonder if I should be doing more to prepare for the birth, I realize nothing needs to be done. It’s okay to trust that I already know everything, have every skill, possess all the wisdom that is necessary. There are plans of course … a wise and trusting midwife has been hired, a birth tub has been arranged, a birth kit will be ordered. But that is logistical stuff. Internally, I have everything, am everything that I need. I don’t need to read books on how to give birth. If anything, they will separate me from myself and fill my heart with someone else’s wisdom. I don’t need someone else’s wisdom. I already have my own.

Still my mind worries and ruminates and is sometimes unconvinced. But my baby and my heart whisper that all is well. When the time comes for me to open wide and let this baby out, I will spiral within myself, traveling back to a place that makes me one with the universe. I will stand at the doorway between life and death, where the great circle closes in on itself and gives birth again. I will know the way there and it will not be without pain. I will give myself up to it but I will not be consumed. I will crack myself open and melt into that space, but I will not be lost. I will have moments of doubt and indecision, but my heart will be there for me and it will know. It will take me to my baby, and I will return with an empty womb and full arms.

And so my child, know that I hear your wisdom and I make it a part of me. There are no shoulds or woulds or coulds. It’s just you and me. Being.