The business of being born

I had come to Wakefield to visit my sweet sister-in-law, my brother and my handsome new nephew January 2009. Julian was 1 month old and Rohan was about 8 months old. While we were here we went to a local bar called the Black Sheep to watch a movie called 'Orgasmic Birth'. They do that here in the winter time when it turns into a ghost town, possibly to give people a reason to brave the cold and get out of the house!

Anyway, I don't completely remember the content of the movie, I just recall the emphasis on the benefits to mom and babe with a natural birth and our cultures (North America) emphasis on speeding up the process and getting it done in time for the end of your shift. There were several mom's and babies there and at the end of the movie they gathered for a bit to discuss how they felt about the the movie and their own birthing experiences. I just wanted to hide in a dark corner and cry.

I don't talk about my birthing experience very freely. When asked (depending on the person asking) I generally say that it didn't happen how I had intended it to, or if it is someone a bit more trusted or more interested, I may also insert a small voiced 'it was a nightmare'. But, in all honesty I have attempted to my best ability to put the whole experience behind me and appreciate the outcome of a beautiful and healthy child.

Then, a couple of day's ago now, I watched a film called 'The Business of Being Born'. It pinpointed so much of the negativity that I had been holding onto about my birthing experience, and it really opened my eyes to so many repercussions of the Ceasarian section. I would never claim that it is an unnecessary surgery in such cases that the child or mother are in danger, I am truly grateful for it's easy availability in such scary situations. But what about for the rest of us?
I was in no danger, Rohan was just chillaxing in the old birth canal, heart rate steady and normal. But my time in the hospital was running out, it was the end of the day, and Rohan was staying put. That's it. He was facing my hip which might have made it a bit more difficult, but not impossible. He was HUGE, but his head was a pretty normal size...................what gives?

If I was in the right frame of mind I would have demanded to be allowed to push for the rest of the night. I would have done it. It just wasn't an option for me, and that is such a strange concept that the control of my labour, my birth, my body was passed onto the professionals. And to this day I still feel traumatized by the experience, traumatized by the miracle of birth? How is that possible? It is supposed to be beautiful, magical, an instant bonding with this little person that grew inside of me for 9 (10) months. It hurts (oh so bad) it takes a long time, and at times, it can scar you physically for life, mama wounds, I can live with that! But not on the inside.

Anyhow, the movie made me feel an outrage to the system. This feeling of having had something taken away from me is very much faded, but not completely gone. I don't love my child less, I am no less greatful towards all the rewards that motherhood has been offering to me for the last two years. I just feel like those precious first moments were removed from my experience, Drug induced, delusional, almost indifferent to the infant they plopped onto my breast hours later, and unaware of what was happening is not how I imagined it would be.

Gaseous Maximus

I had a pinnacle realization the other day. I was hanging out with the Ro-Dog, as per usual, and I couldn't help but notice that he was seriously gassy. Like running farts, jumping farts, and just sitting quietly in the couch and farting. I spent a couple minutes making a list in my head of all the things that I had eaten that day to come up the with culprit for my sons digestive distress. And only then, after 2 years of motherhood, did I realize that it did not matter what I ate, as none of it could possibly affect Rohan's windy days. Rohan wasn't breastfeeding anymore, nor was he anywhere near living in my womb anymore. I finally realized that he was his very own separate person.

All this time I hadn't realized that I had still considered him, at least in a small bit, a part of me. My food and beverage consumption is no longer something that he suffers the consequences of, just me! How is it that I did not come to this conclusion as soon as he weaned himself? Or even days after..............but months? Is this my personal form of attachment parenting, not allowing a full independence, even subconsciously?

I have read a serious amount of baby books in this short stint of mommyland that I have lived in, one of them being 'The scientist in the crib' and it offers information on the instant and growing intelligence of your infant. There is a part that explain that your child does not understand that he is a separate being from you, that he is his own person. You are him and he is you. This realization comes later in life, maybe in the toddler years? So I wonder, did Rohan recently have the same epiphany that I did? How did that make him feel? Glad to be rid of this overprotective mom (sob) a little scared of his own, growing, independence?

Me? A little sad actually, I really enjoyed and basked in the knowledge that my body was developing in order to sustain my infant, than child and, for a little while, my toddler. He actually lived off of the sustenance that my body produced just for him. I know that I still provide him with meals and shelter and love love love, but that little bit of time that we had together, sharing, exploring, being...........it was beautiful. I kind of miss that sense of connection, that closeness. Ahhhhhh maybe that is why Moms keep on having babies, to get that baby feeling back!! Uh Oh, trouble town!