"A child will be born in the center of the pain"

The beginning of this week I had a lymph node that was very painful. It was interesting because I found myself responding to the pain in the same way I did with labor. I started my deep breathing and pacing. I took a shower, and longed to have my husband near me if only to hold my hand. I turned off the lights and I started to internalize the pain-analyze it from all sides. I could do this because I had learned to accept pain as normal and useful.

I used to work for Hospice, which dealt a lot with pain issues. It was interesting because I noticed that quite often those that were the most at peace were not always those who were in the least pain. It seemed that those who were the most at peace were those who had learned to accept pain into their lives and who had stopped fighting it. I think the same thing applies to labor. It is by accepting the pain and working with it, not to push it back, but to help it accomplish its purpose, that we find the most peace and satisfaction with our work.

"Birth is painful to Mayan women. But the pain is universally recognized as a normal part of childbearing. A child will be born, it is said in the Yucatan, in ' the center of the pain.' Pain is seen as the very hallmark of labor progress rather than as a symptom to be treated or an evil to escape."

**quotes come from the book Easing Labor Pain by Adrienne B Lieberman, 1992

Perserverance

With all of my labors, I have experienced some point where I have said "I can't do this any more". I am quite literally completely exhausted both physically and emotionally. But at that point there is nothing to do but go on. I can not run away or reverse what has happened. My body is spent and yet I 'm still moving on.

As I now sit here thinking about this, other scenes flash through my mind. Sleepless nights, fights and tears, frustrations, and worries. At many other points in my life, I have reached the same crossroads. Like standing on a railroad track with the train coming on life is rushing, rushing ever pressing forward. And I feel the same fear..."I can't do this any more".

But...I do. Amazingly enough, I do. It is hard. It is scary. If seems unfair. But at the end, there is life.

Fear

Fear is an interesting emotion. On one hand it keeps you from danger. If you fear a lion, that's a good thing. Chances are, then, you'll run away. On the other hand it can sometimes do us some harm. If you are afraid to try new things, then you may miss out on something that could be wonderful.

In the case of labor, it can do much more harm. Your muscles all tighten up, keeping the baby from descending properly. The problem is, who wouldn't be afraid of labor! Luckily, nowadays, death is not as much a problem as the pain and the unexpected. There is also the fear that you might need a c-section, not to mention how things will go afterwards. I was afraid for my first one, just because I didn't know what to expect. I was afraid for my second because I did know what to expect.

Somehow, though, in order for labor to progress the best it possibly can we have to learn to look past that fear. To overcome the natural instinct that causes us to flee. Somehow, fear, must be looked at, scrutinized, stared in the face, and embraced. It's not a "I am woman and will conquer" kind of a thing. It's a I am afraid, but I will see it and not run. Because it is a part of me. Somehow, we have to let fear come to us and wash over us, then leave us ready to move on.

Touch

One of my favorite comforting memories of my mother is when she would trace my face. I would lay down to sleep and she would sit by my side and with her finger trace around my lips, nose and eyes. There was just something about that soft touch that gave me peace. I find myself doing this with my own children and they'll trace my face back.

Touch can certainly be a comforting action. Of course in labor there are times when being touched is definitely not wanted:) But I remember one time when I was close to the pushing stage, the nurse that was with me at the time just held my hand. That simple jester of touch meant a lot to me. It didn't lesson my pain or make me more comfortable, but it let me know she cared and wanted to help. I suppose that was what my mother's face tracing meant to me also. There is peace in a touch that means that someone loves us.

Deep breathing

One of the things that often helped me through a good part of the contractions was deep breathing. I didn't have any special method or anything, I just started focusing on my breathing in and out and that helped me to stop fighting the contractions.

This last labor was an interesting experience for me with deep breathing. I was so exhausted and I would find myself feeling out of control. Then I would remember to stop close my eyes and breathe. I become aware of the fact that if I would just do this, I would feel much more in control and my contractions became much more bearable.

It is interesting to me how sometimes just stopping what we are doing and focusing ourselves is a great liberator in times of stress. I think this can take many forms. In labor I used deep breathing, but throughout my life I have used many other ways. I have prayed, I have given myself time outs:) The other day I had children screaming around me and I was going crazy with sleep deprivation. I just left the room for a little bit and did my deep breathing. It was amazing how much of a difference this made.

During labor, stress can push us to the edge. We find the same within our own lives as mothers. So I would encourage us all to just step back and breathe.

Joy and Pain

Ok so what word comes to mind when you think of labor? Most people would say pain. It's true it is painful. But I often ponder on the outcome of all that pain. An incredible, indescribable joy as you get your first look at the beautiful child that has been a part of you for nine months. Why is it that those two words are so often connected? In my experience, true joy has it's share of pain with it.

My first glimpse of this concept actually came when I had a miscarriage. I was 16 weeks along. We had already heard the heartbeat and the idea of having another little one with me (I had already had two at the time), was just started to spark within me. So it hurt, badly, when I miscarried. Very badly. Lots of questions came to my mind. But I also felt a happiness and awe for the children that I already had. I had never looked at them as being such a miracle until I knew that I could have lost them. And my love for them deepened and grew beyond what it would have if I had not had the miscarriage.

Does pain in labor add the same kind of depth? I don't know. Even for those who have epidural, there is a lot of hard work, fear and just plain exhaustion that goes into receiving our little ones into this world. So, is there a connection between our pain and our joy? I think there may be.

Begin at the beginning

I love being a mom.

I had never thought about it until I had my own children who are now 7, 5, 3, almost 2, and 7 weeks. What really surprised me, though, was my reaction to labor. It hurt, yes, I expected that. What I didn't expect was how much that experience would mean to me. It has been something that has stuck with me. So much so that I am now working on becoming a doula. Which leads to this blog. I wanted something to organize my thoughts and share what I have learned about being a woman and a mom specifically from my labor.

So here is the beginning of my journey...