We went to Applebee’s for lunch on Saturday. In the booth directly behind us were two very harried adults and one very enthusiastic toddler. Mom and dad were trying to eat one-handed while their little girl spent large chunks of time pounding me in the back of the head and trying to engage us in conversation.
Since this little event made me not at all sad about not having children of my own I decided I was in a good enough emotional place to finally watch The Business Of Being Born. It was a good movie and presented a lot of the very important facts about the advantages of midwife-assisted birth and the dangers of physician-directed (what most people consider “normal”) birth. I really think that every woman who is considering childbirth should watch this movie in order to make an informed decision about their birthing process.
The film did leave me with one question, and as I can see the sun setting on my childbearing years I figured I’d get opinions in the second-best way. I’m asking those of you who’ve done it already.
In the movie the various women all claimed that giving birth was a life-altering and spiritual experience. Not just the “now I am responsible for another person” thing but the actual process of birthing itself. They likened it to a journey, a sort of internal walkabout that brings new revelations and a certain sort of high.
Is this true?
I know that the decision to accept childlessness is its own kind of journey. I liken it to the pain of labour with one difference. Instead of days of physical pain you have years of emotional pain that eventually gives birth to a kind of peace and acceptance. Instead of being an onslaught of blood and screaming the acquiesence to barrenness is like walking against a cold wind blowing through your heart and then finally turning and walking the other way into a sort of warmth and calmness you had forgotten from your own childhood.
I’ve always wondered what the birthing journey is like, and I wondered if there was an answer out there.
Yes, absolutely yes. But I don’t think childbirth is the only way to have that brand of life-altering growth.
The thing about childbirth is that you anticipate it for months, you’re nervous and scared of it, if it’s natural it’s totally unscheduled and no matter what, out of your hands to a greater degree than anyone wants to admit to you before hand…and when you find yourself in the middle of it, it’s almost a given that you’ll feel overwhelmed and not up to it. I know I had thoughts during pushing that it would honest to goodness kill me, and I don’t think I’m alone. And then you’ve done it, and it’s over, and you DID IT. You survived!
I think there are absolutely other experiences in life that can put you through a similar wringer and leave you on the other side better for it and more confident in yourself. It doesn’t have to be childbirth.
Yes. An unqualified yes. The pregnancy itself changed my feminism pretty completely (I had been about as anti-essentialist as they came until it turned out that my husband and I had entirely different pre-partum experiences…) and had its spiritually deepening moments. But the birthing itself was really profound. I had a great nurse-midwife and I gave birth in a hospital room, but it was pretty much set up as a hotel room. I didn’t use painkillers (fortunately, did not need them as my pain tolerance is off the charts and I had a chronic condition for years that could not be medicated, so I had already learned how to manage waves of pain similar to labor pains). I found it to be a drawing inward of my consciousness for those hours where I got very calm and focused. I was really wholly in my body (working with my daughter as she made her way out), but also “in between” in a way. The only time I felt overwhelmed was during transition and then I tried to get up and lock myself in the bathroom because I wanted to be BY MYSELF — I was really bothered by having even my midwife and husband in the room. There’s something in you insisting that this is your most private moment. The zap you feel in your pelvis as the head clears (there’s a medical term for it, I’m sure, but I’ve forgotten it) has always seemed to me to be a magical moment of ensoulment, where this being that was me is now someone distinct from me.
Then again, the chronic pain journey was also spiritually significant, just different. And parenthood. And losing a parent. We’re getting those lessons all the time. Some people pay attention. Some don’t.
Well, for me, it wasn’t. Of course, I arrived at the hospital fully dilated, and it was complete chaos. It was a horrifying experience. The pain was secondary to the sheer terror. There were people all around me I didn’t know asking me to do things I couldn’t do. I would have lost it without my doula. When he came out, I didn’t hear him cry, and I didn’t think he was breathing, and no one seemed concerned. Afterwards was humiliating. People say you loose all sense of modesty. I didn’t. Then, months later, I had to have surgery to correct the botched vulvar repair that made me feel like damaged goods. I’m happy to say that was successful and I feel much better about myself now. I would do anything to erase the whole experience from my mind.
I’m sorry, but I think the phrase “botched vulvar repair” may be the scariest thing I’ve heard in years.
I’m so sorry it went so badly for you; especially after as long as you’d looked forward to it.
Hmmm…I’d have to say that each person will draw from the experience what they want to out of it.
In my case, I was quite nervous about the whole thing, so I wasn’t really in tune with the enlightening “spiritual” aspect of it. Then, I wanted to have a vaginal birth, but Amanda’s head got stuck, so I had to have a c-section after 14 hours of labor.
Now, I will definitely say that the moment I heard her cry and I saw her…and then when they laid her on my chest…I felt a feeling I had never felt in my life. I would say that was the spiritual experience for me, not the birth process.
Still, there’s always been a tiny part of me that has wondered what I missed by not experiencing the vaginal birth. So, see…we all have our regrets (for lack of a better word), I suppose.
Naturally, they wouldn’t include women whose experiences didn’t support the message they were trying to convey. Personally, there was nothing life-altering or spiritual about the birth process for me. It was painful and awkward and distressing and scary and much much messier than I’d been led to expect. But in the years since, in conversations with other women, I’ve learned that my appraisal of my experience usually results in confused silence, so I just smile and nod as they rave about giving birth.
considering that I just lost my last lemon filled krispy kreme donut to my son, as deeply enlightening and life affirming as his birth was…I wonder…was it worth having to share all my goodies with him???