37 weeks and counting

At night, when I feel this baby move, when she stretches her solid little being against some great expanse within me and I can feel every dimension of a body thriving within my own, I am scared shitless.  What I want to feel is love and gratitude, awe and respect - which I do - but the honest, gut wrenching feeling is really a 'Holy Fuck, this baby is coming out of me.'

There is a residual belief that I can't do this birth thing. That my body won't be able to do it.  This baby is big now, and getting bigger every day.  I feel knees and tiny baby heels and a nice solid rump which can make me swoon with delight at knowing her.  My hands reach out to touch her back, to let her know that mama is there.  But as the wave of love passes, tiny bubbles of panic surface that my bones must give way to let her through, that my body is about to be a gateway.  This journey, this passage is not easy.  For mother it is a moment on the brink of life and death, and for baby it is a process of incarnating from spirit to water to earth-being.  I cannot be merely peaceful in the face of this.

Work lies ahead.  Hard work.  Sweaty, messy, painful, stoic, loud and wild work.  In the daytime, in sunlight, I think of this and say Bring It On.  I am ready.  But when night falls and the world goes to sleep, I feel small and alone and fearful of the unknown that lies ahead, of where I must go to bring this baby out.

I am both second time mother and first time mother.  I have never pushed a baby out.  What does it feel like for one's flesh to give way?  For a body, grown in mystery and beyond human view, to emerge from one's own as a separate being?  What is the real pain behind the face of rapture?  Can I do it?  Can I let go enough for my bones to separate, for my womb to release this baby?  These questions haunt me at night.  And as she swims and presses and rolls and stretches within me, I whisper to the darkness:  Please don't let tonight be the night.

And yet my body is ready.  I have fully ripened.  I am heavy with baby and she needs to come soon.  I huff and groan and heave myself around in little grunts by now.  Her time is anytime really.  So I dig deeply to prepare for something that can't really be known.  And how does one prepare for the unknown?  It amazes me really, the courage that we muster when we choose to give ourselves over to bring new life to the world.  We walk in the warrior tradition.  We are Sundancers.  We surrender ourselves for the blessing of the tribe.

Satchel's fifth birthday is this Tuesday.  Five years ago tonight, I was in labor with him already.  I was confident, ready, willing, I was giddy with the thought of labor.  I expected ecstacy to take over and transport me through the experience.  Three days later he was born through a clean line on my belly and I had been broken.  I had failed.  My body had failed.  And so, with this awareness, I realize that my body still carries the legacy of failure.  It is this fear that rises in the night telling me not to be so certain, not to be so confident.  But more than a snarky, evil voice, it is the voice of humility that comes.  Birth cannot be contained or controlled.  And here lies the beauty of it.  The wildness.  To this force, to this power, I offer my respect.  It is resepectful to be so cautious I think.  To know that I have human limits.  Living in this body limits me.  And yet birth is so fully human, there is no way around it.  I will grunt and sweat and pant and push and poop and moan and rock and I will probably even barf.  This is what it will take to get my baby out.  And this is okay.  I don't have to like it.  I just have to do it. 

For years I expected to love birth, to feel the orgasmic rapture that I believed would happen in a 'good' birth.  But knowing that I don't have to like it is a freedom really.  It gives me permission to hate it, to not feel beautiful and powerful and triumphant in the moment.  And knowing this allows me to do the hard work of birthing.  To do whatever it takes to get my baby out.  The sentimentality is gone.  There will be time for this - time for counting toes and fingers, for gazing into baby's eyes, for falling in love with this new human.  But birth asks the animal in me to come out and dance.  So I will.  Whether this is in my bathroom or on a surgical table, the wild woman is coming out and this makes me afraid.  Letting her out is scary. 

So here, in the night, I am defenseless to the ways of birth.  I feel it most strongly when the stars come out and the sky is black, when the baby does her nighttime dance and I know that pushing her out is only days away.

Comments

[Dominique]

Brooke,
You record your experience so beautifully it brings tears to my eyes. Thanks for sharing, it makes me feel closer as I'm way over here on the other side of the world. You are such a loving woman. Your daughter will be lucky to have a role model like you. You embrace all that is strong in the female, which is in part, the ability to be open and vulnerable. The faith you have in yourself and the universe will aide you greatly during your birth. I love you sister.
Dominique

[Rebekah]

When you write about birth, about having a C-section, about being a second time AND first time mother I often feel like you have written down MY thoughts. Almost exactly. It so resonates with me, it is hard to explain. I wish you trust and faith and hope and joy and peace in the days leading up to, during and after Lova's birth. Believe, Brooke. Believe.

[Colleen]

I have been thinking about how you are doing, in these last weeks of pregnancy, so I am glad to read your updates today. Let the wild woman out, but also befriend her. She is your best ally. She will tell you what to do in-the-moment. You cannot plan for what she will tell you to do. I listened to her four months ago, and she has not left me since. Many blessings and love to you, Brooke.

[melissa s]

brooke- your body didn't fail you. it was something that happened. you are strong, and birth is birth. your little girl has entered your body and she will enter this world in the way that right for her. we don't get to choose our birth. i remember meeting you after our boys were born, and how hard it was for you to have ended up with a c-section. you are a strong woman, and you will find a way to have a beautiful birth, and you for sure you will have a beautiful baby! i found with both of my boys i needed to be ready for them to be out of my body in order for it to happen. love, and happy thoughts, melissa

[Cindy in Manitoba]

Sweet warrior-mama Brooke... your words are wise, as you process and bear witness in a truthful way as you near this threshold.... as are those of the powerful women you have surrounded yourself with. You are held.

We are here with you in this time, and will offer you strength, courage, peace, love, and power as your journey continues from mama of one... to mama of two souls. We will welcome and envelope you, paint your warrior markings, swaddle you and feed you tiny morsels, as you emerge from wherever this journey takes you.

Sending you love and blessings,
and with you in spirit (you can count on it!),
xo ~ Cindy

[tracey k. in Ohio]

Isn't it strange how the night brings out the dark recesses & worries of the mind, and the day makes you feel immortal? You & your girl will be kind to each other on your road to meeting each other. Remember, you both are warriors with jobs to do! Peace, tranquility, comfort & blessings, always.

[Mere Mortal]

when you spoke those words at your blessingway..."i don't have to like it", i thought they were so profound in their simplicity. and i saw your energy shift: from birth as something we must "fear" to something we just accept "as is".
just as a warrior doesn't have to "like" the battle, so too, do you need not "love" this journey of labor. you need only to be prepared, which i see you fully are.
that's not to say we don't quiver at the thought of it, particularly at this point where you are. i totally, totally remember the "holy shit, this baby has to come out" moments in each of my pregnancies too.
i have no doubt that you will cycle through every emotion so gracefully and wisely in lova's birth; you will roar and breathe fire and sigh and moan and cry and laugh and exhale it all.
before you know it, she will be in your arms.
keeping you close to my heart during this time.
love you,

[Joanna]

Hi Brooke - Your mom is so wonderful; what a fabulous comment. I have to say: you described the awe and 'fear' of birth in those last remaining days of pregnancy just perfectly. I, too, remember feeling strong and able in the light of day but in bed thinking, I'd feel less so. What has enamored me of birth is the amazing uniqueness of all three I've experienced. I delivered all of my kiddos vaginally, but they were all so different, from the experiences of the days that led me into labor to the actual births themselves. I appreciate this part of it. For you, knowing you wish to do this vaginally (and forgive me as I don't remember or know of your story with Satchel; I only started reading you months ago), I hope your dream comes true. And me never having known the emotional or physical side of a c-section, I can hardly say this without being out of tune: you didn't fail with your son, and you can't fail again. You have the experience of having done this before behind you. I pray this second birth is all you hope for, but as Kate said, this journey is happening as it should, for reasons likely unknown. You are so strong in your spirit; I'm not sure I've ever read someone so convicted (MB - yes). I wish you peace in the coming hours and days...

[sweetsalty kate]

What your mom said is just so perfect. Lova has her own journey too.. and no matter what that journey looks like, she will help to form you into the mama you're meant to be.

You're just so full of energy and love, Brooke. I know it's daunting to get from A to B but what's most beautiful is to just remember that you are hers, and she is yours, and the world will be so much bigger with her in it. You'll get there my dear, with all of us sending our spirits to cheer at your side.
xoxo

[Donna]

I hear your fear and know you will be ok.

[Sarah]

Thinking of you as you start your big journey towards this birth.

[mom]

Yes, you have some hard work to do and must help Lova the helpless sweet soft girl child to her earthly home. But, don't forget that Lova is also a spiritual being who planned her karma with you, and she will find her way out. Continue trusting her as you have been.

[Ericka]

Brooke,
There's a doorway in front of you. One way or another, you're going through that door, and no matter how it FEELS in the moment, it IS beauty. Blessings on the experience. I love that the French don't say "good luck, they say "courage." (You have to say it in that lovely French way with the "ahhhh" in the last syllable.) And that's what I wish for you now, Courage. And Love.

[angela]

I had my first child after eight hours of labor. I had no problems and looking back, it was probably a quick birth as compared to some of the other horror stories that I heard. When I had my second child, I somehow expected the same experience and to make a long story short, after 27 hours of labor and two failed epidurals that I swore I would never get in the first place, my daughter too was air lifted from me, blue and with an Apgar of 2. It took me a long time to realize that my body did not fail me, medical science did. No one ever took the time to help with alternate positions or anything other than to tell me that if I would just cooperate, I would be able to have a vaginal birth. I don't have a clue of what cooperate meant but now I know that there was nothing that I could have personally done to change to situation. My third child was a planned C-section and it was a lot more controlled and I knew a whole lot more of what to expect and my doctors this time were great-no one made me feel like I was in their way and God forbid, were forced to interrupt their sleep to deliver a child into the world. So, what I guess that I am trying to say in all of this babbling is that I wish you a quick and painless birth no matter how Lova decides to come into the world. Most of all, I wish you peace and the love and joy that only the birth of a child can bring.