Bit by Bit

The comments on my "What is bonding?" post have helped shift something in me. A switch has been flipped. I am no longer looking at ways in which C and I have not bonded. Because it isn't about that. We have bonded. We continue to bond.

I have fallen in love at first sight with people. And (for me) it felt like addiction. [Not saying that "love at first sight" is not real or valid - it is real and it is valid - I had to have those experiences and I may again]. With my partner I fell in love slowly, bit by bit, over time. Some parts of falling in love were instant and some took time and evolution. Our relationship is so balanced. There is something very true about our love. There is something very true about the way we love each other. It's been a process.

I kind of see bonding between mama and baby as a process. Some of it is instant. Instantly I wanted to protect her and nourish her. Some of it is bit by bit and over time. As she changes and grows and develops, we see new sides of each other. Or we see the same stuff but in different ways. Bonding evolves.

It no longer works for me to look at what we didn't get when she was born. I am looking at what we have now. I am not even looking for it - it is just there.

Bitter Sweet

C turned 6 months today. I swear she grew a bunch overnight! She was born 6 months ago at 6:50pm. I didn't know I had a baby girl until I woke up at 10 to 8pm - well after that when the nurse in recovery found out and then told me. I had C via c-section and I was under a general anaesthetic. My heart hurts that I was not there to welcome her to the world. Even more that her baba couldn't be there to welcome her. I feel tremendous sadness about it all today. We looked at the clock at various points and said, 6 months ago right now contractions started, the midwife came, water broke, left for the hospital, she was born, etc.

Last week I was aware of the intense fear I felt when they rolled me in to the OR - feeling contractions and freaking scared of the general and the knife and for my baby's life.

Today it is sadness.

And I am so happy she is here, so pleased, so in love, so in awe. She is everything. Everything to me. My heart aches with these joyful feelings too.

But Today is Not the Day

Reading others' February 29 posts has made me realise that there is so much more I could write. So much more that I need to write. I don't know where to begin. I don't have the energy. I am afraid to open the door to all those feelings. Others' posts have me aware. And inspired.

I know now that ttc and pregnancy and birth are all about loss. Things that are essentially all about creating new life are also about loss.

I know now that there are so many people out there who can say it so much better than me. It is amazing what happens when someone (or in the case of February 29, many someones) put words to so many things that I have thought, have felt, still think, still feel.

Herstory Repeats Itself

So I am reading this book on recovering emotionally from complicated birth and I am in like chapter 3 or 4. The author talks about history repeating itself. Or in this case herstory repeating itself. Apparently the idea is that we are inclined to give birth much in the way we were born. Or, in the very least there are common themes. Birth as narrative? Or, we do what we know.

The author talks about rebirthing work. This is where you combine breath work with hypnotherapy and you go back to your own birth. When I was somewhere in the middle of ttc I had the opportunity to do rebirthing work. To this day I still find it all dubious - if that makes sense. I mean, really(?) you can go back to your own birth?! When I went back, I found myself having a hard time being born and feeling sluggish and afraid that I was going to die.

Herstory repeating itself.

My mom opted for a natural hospital birth in 1972. I was her third. She's been through it before. Laboured at home. Was only in the hospital for 2 hours before I was born just after 9am. The night before, labour had started and her doctor told her to have a glass of wine to take the edge off. She drank an entire bottle of cherry liquor. She tells the story and finds it funny. [By the way, my mom is not a drinker at all ever].

So that explains the sluggishness and the fear about dying. I was drunk while trying to be born.

Fast forward to September 2007. I know that just before the general anesthesia kicked in I was afraid we were both going to die. I'm sure when the anesthesia traveled through the cord baby C started to feel the effects and quite possibly thought she was going to die. She was already dealing with thick meconium, and had stopped moving. She came out needing resuscitation.

Needless to say, I feel horrible that she had to go through that. That is a whole other post.

Prior to giving birth, I had done some work in therapy around my own birth memories. But really gave it no thought as I prepared for birth. I had worked on pain management techniques and visualisation. But I never really addressed the way my own birth shaped how I felt about giving birth. I have to say I went into it feeling confident about my body's intuition and wisdom. I also felt confident that baby knows what to do too. My goal was to go with the flow. My plan was a home birth. Perhaps I was avoiding the memories of my own birth. But it never seemed relevant.

This is me reflecting and making sense, coming to terms and making peace.

Now what do I do with this idea of herstory repeating itself? What do I do now that I can link my own birth with C's birth? Can I somehow make it so C doesn't have to give birth the way she was born?

Must Share

I have purposely avoided sharing photos in this blog, but I couldn't resist when it came to this one:



She is about a week old here. I look at the photo, I look at her now, I look at the way she fit in my hand, and I look at her again - she's grown!

I had this photo made into a black & white 8x10.

* * * * * *

Finished reading chapter 2 of the healing birth trauma book, this morning. It was about ptsd and birth. I could relate. I want to post some of my thoughts here, but I am a bit overwhemed with the information.

But I will say this, I went into the birth (even ttc and pregnancy) truly knowing that my body knows what to do. I worry now that I have lost all faith in my body. I hope I can get it back.

Thank You

People are actually reading this blog. I am finding support as I navigate my way through post-partum healing and whatnot. I just want to say thank you to those who offer supportive commenets. Wow. It means more than you know.

Can I Be Both?

I am reading a self help book about recovering from a traumatic birth.

I read Chapter 1 this morning before C woke up.

I used my highlighter like it was a school project or something.

I want to feel better. I want to incorporate the experience and the scar from the unplanned c-section and the sense that I somehow failed.

I wanted to welcome C into the world calmly, gently, and with ease. Why did that not happen?

People tell me that I should be happy that C is here, alive and well, and to nevermind the birth and how she got here.

Can I be both? Happy - ecstatic, even - that she is here, alive and well... AND sad that things didn't go as planned?

Because today I am both.