Birthing Day...

When a baby is born, so is a mother. 

Photographer: Karen E

I always thought that was a cute, if not trite, little saying. Until I had my own babies.

I have come to realise that having children entails a massive core identity shift for many women - more so than getting married or a first menstruation or any other of life's transitional experiences. The shift often takes us by surprise in its nature and its magnitude. 

Ask any mother which she remembers in greater details, her wedding day or the births of each of children. Almost all the women I have asked have far more acute memories of the triumphs or tragedies of their birthing days than their wedding days. (I'm not sure of the equivalent life experience to ask about for women who haven't been married - if you have any ideas let me know!)

Three years ago my youngest daughter was born and even though we celebrate this day, the 18th of June as her birthday it was, as cheesy as it sounds, a birth-day of sorts for me too. 

I birthed my first daughter in a drug free natural birth in a private hospital in Pietermaritzburg. I was on my back doing purple pushing, but for most of the nurses there it was the most natural birth they had seen in many months - especially considering the number of nurses who came in to congratulate me with awed whispers of 'We heard what you did!' 

My gynae told me it was one birth out of a thousand and that totally freaked me out! To me it was a normal birth, an 'average' birth, an example of how most women could and did give birth but I have since discovered that there is far too much hospital policy, often not evidence based, and not enough support for moms (read: doulas) for this to be the norm.

It was an intense experience for me. I have never broken a bone or dislocated anything or had kidney stones or anything like that, so it was the most painful thing I had ever experienced. But I felt confident, I felt supported and at no point did I feel as though I was suffering. 

I learned a little more over the intervening years and chose to have a water birth at home for the birth of my second daughter. That was an utterly life altering experience. Here is a link to the full story: Eloise's Birth (will open in a new window)

I essentially had an unassisted birth with a midwife in the room. I had said to my midwife, Sr Arlen Ege, that I wanted to do as much myself as I could, unless I asked for help or unless she could see that intervention was necessary, and she gave me the gift of respecting my wishes. So I had an exquisite physiological birth after a week of on-and-off labour (check the link for more details) and it was a highlight of my life. 

I was high on endorphins and oxytocin for what seemed like weeks afterwards and I truly felt like I could take on the world! 

And so I firmly believe that when both my babies were born, new facets of who I am today were birthed at the same time. 

Photographer: Karen E

My babies showed me how to think of someone else before myself, how to nurture and how to love. They showed me reserves of strength and patience that I had no idea I had. They also showed me my limits and my weaknesses - and I have been able to grow through those times. They brought out the fierce mama bear in me - the wild woman who roars in the face of danger and hardship. 

They have also drawn out my softest tear-blurred gazes and inspired my proudest heart-busting moments. 

One thing that I adore about being a doula is that I have the privilege of walking alongside women as they make this transition. I get to witness the birth on so many levels!

So today everyone celebrates my daughter's birthday, and rightly so, I have had many of my own! But on this day I secretly celebrate my own birthing days, those hallowed moments of encountering the exquisite juicy rawness of human life. 

I give them gifts, as parents do, but no book or toy can come close to the gifts my daughters have brought me - the gift of becoming more fully myself, the gift of finding my calling, the gift of becoming a mother.

Love Makes Things Grow...

A little lightheartedness... (teehee)

At the place where I work they had to dig up some pipes at one stage and before there was a chance to replace the tar, this patch of grass happened.

As I walked past it on my way to my car one afternoon the words 'Love makes things grow' just popped into my head and I've been ruminating on them ever since.

So please feel free to share this pic, or Pin It and spread it far and wide because everyone needs to know that love makes things grow!

Pinning Tip: If you hover over the image a 'Pin It' button should appear.

Redefining Identity at Age 30...

I thought this was what the early 20s were for...

Confession time: 

I've never seen myself as a particularly caring person. 

Passionate, yes; caring, not really.

Me in one of my Fiercest Mama moments!

I've always admired people who could care for others - especially the frail and infirm of all ages. As a young person I was a little shocked at how indifferent I felt. 

Even when I had my first daughter I wasn't overwhelmed with love as some moms describe - it took a couple of incidents that awakened my inner 'mama bear' for me to see that I loved my daughter with the fiercest love I've ever known. It got much easier with my second...

I am passionate about justice and fairness and sustainability and other such things. For example, I do my utmost to only buy clothes made locally as cheap imported clothing undermines local industries. I can't complain about unemployment and crime if my actions are contributing to the problem. The thing is, this passion arose more out of a sense of justice than out of love.

But, as I start to move into a more directly caring vocation - doula work specifically - and as I try to practise empathy in disciplining my daughters, in a sense as I start to do the work of caring, I find myself becoming a more genuinely caring person. 

I find myself overwhelmed with love and empathy for complete strangers.

I do think it has something to do with the fact that I feel like I'm coming out of a spiritual hibernation. A couple of months ago I had a picture of myself as a 'mama bear' (not that we even have bears here in South Africa!) climbing out of her den (do bears live in dens?) and stretching and blinking in the sunlight. She was on the thin side, and a little weak, but she was enjoying the warmth and the promise of newness and life.

So maybe it has something to do with this spiritual re-awakening - as I lean into this infinite love, strength and wisdom more and more, so I can give love, strength and wisdom into the lives of others. Perhaps I had practiced indifference because I just felt the weight of suffering too keenly. But as I start to understand this Saviour who carried all the suffering that ever was or ever could be, who could empathize to the utmost, so I start to see how I don't have to be paralysed by the suffering of others because he already carried their suffering in himself - and so I can truly be free - free to love with a fierce love, rather than a desperate love.