My
baby girl turned 1 last week. I can
hardly believe it. What in the world is happening? I stare at her pictures, in a near-obsessive way... especially
the one of the day she was born, the one of the moment she was “air-lifted” out
of me, as I Iaid on that cold table in pain, full of anxiety and full of joy. Oh,
so much joy. So much relief that she was going to be ok. In spite of her heart
rate that had gone from the healthy rapid force-full boom-boom-boom to the decreasing boom….boom…boom
with every contraction that wracked my body, terrifying my husband and I…as we
listened to our mid-wife’s calm but firm voice that our “birth plan” was going
to be thrown out the window, and instead, I was to be rushed to the hospital,
to have the worst – a c-section. (Looking back, it certainly was not the worst
thing that could have happened, but truly "sacred" medical intervention, to make sure
that my baby would come out just fine).
BUT. When you have had 12 (yes twelve!)
birthing classes in the way of “au naturel” and 3 breast-feeding classes
claiming that the only good and perfect way to have a child is "au naturel" (and
by all means, say no, no, to the epidural that will be forced down your throats
by current-money-hungry doctors and the medical industry), of course you are devastated
when you hear your great carefully articulated birth plan has gone to muck in
all of 5 minutes. No time to get my special blankie, no time for the music, the
soft lights, the birthing tub, the exercises on the ball, the many anticipated hours of
labor. Of course we had braced ourselves. Ok, let’s be honest I, as the
woman, especially, had braced myself for the worst kind of pain that I
imagined could ever imagine. My husband had done a more-than-stellar job in
preparing himself too (and he read way more Baby-prep books, diligently than I did myself), in preparing for our baby's coming...and for my pain, and the pain, he was sure I was going to
inflict upon him, as I pushed and pushed to bring our baby into the world.
But
none of that happened.
The pain was oh so very different. It wasn’t what I had
imagined at all. The "before", the "during" and the "after" -- oh, gosh that recovery from surgery was harsh and hard. It was realer and harder and completely unexpected, unplanned
for. There was no Birth Plan B if Plan A didn’t go as planned and with that
came pain, I had no idea what to do with. And it’s been a year. And I am finally able to write about this
beyond sharing my true heart with a couple of sacred friends – covenant sisters
I call them.
I
had to let go then -- that day when Hadassa was born. I have to let go now. And so does she. I guess we both do. Originally, I thought this was going to be a post solely about weaning (letting go) and breast-feeding
and how slowly but surely, weaning time is on it’s way, and quite frankly,
(sorry precious one), is here now. Not in a cold-turkey way, like it was on the
day of her birth, but still I kinda really need her to start learning to let
go. Bit by bit, one little meal at a time, so that she can start eating only “Big Girl’s” food “comme une grande fille!”
Letting go.
The one thing outside of our
Great Birth Plan, (tongue in cheek) my husband and I had fully agreed upon prior to the birth,
was that we were going to go with our Birth Plan as much as is possible, and if her life was to be in
danger or anything like that, we would throw the Plan without any hesitation –
and we did just that. The only problem, is that when we threw it out (well, and
we didn’t have a choice), there was no real replacement – as far as breathing
exercises, pelvic rocks, favorite songs etc etc. We let go of
our plan, and threw ourselves, at the mercy of God and the careful team of doctors who were going to make sure
that our daughter came to us safely. I guess our plan became, "God, however You allow this child to come, we'll do it."
Letting
go is a funny thing.
It takes shape in a variety of ways. Sometimes, when it’s
time to let go, there is often not much warning, and the thing just happens.
Like with the birth of my baby. We were chatting with the midwife around 10 am,
got to the hospital around 11 and at 12:16pm, my baby was born. And then, at other times
letting go, is quite the process, over a period of time, you come to realize
that the thing you really depended on for blank, you don’t need anymore. And
the Lord will provide. As much as I say to my husband or close friends, “I can’t
wait to be done nursing” -- I worry a
bit, that when I do, what will replace the closeness me and my baby girl have?
How will we bond then? And will she enjoy any
food as much as she enjoys and seems to be satisfied with breastmilk? I mean
the girl, really likes to nurse.
Those are real thoughts that I have as a first-time mom. Yet won’t God provide
great nourishing foods for her? Won’t he provide a new and different sort of
bonding between the two of us? Won’t he provide another plan for connection? I
know and trust fully that He will.
Weaning
is seemingly going to be one of the hardest challenges that my daughter has
been faced with thus far, in her short little life, and here will be my newest
(though not quite first) opportunity to help her understand that God will
provide all of what she needs. Even if doesn’t feel so great to her at first.
One
thing to console ourselves, as we consider letting go: we can begin to be more open to letting go because thankfully, the
end result is always the same. Something new comes. That’s the only way, to
experience new, in fact, is to let go of the old. For example, if Haddie stayed 5 months with
her cute gurgles forever, at what I then felt was the peak of her cuteness, I’d never get to experience her absolutely delightful
pre-talk expressive and loud chatter – nearly rivaling my own! I wouldn’t get
to enjoy her careful pronunciation of her name, imitating exactly as she hears
her Papa and I say it. So, letting go has many benefits.
Above all, letting go,
as I learned about 1 year ago at the birth of my darling girl, brings about new
life. Healthy life. Strong life. Boom-boom-boom-boom. Rapid and good
heart-beat. I sigh with relief and abounding joy at having let go.
Achlaï Ernest Wallace
