8 pounds 5 ounces
I arrived home well after the sun had risen this Saturday morning. I know I glanced at the clock on the car cd player at some point in transit and it said 7:30 am.....so it was definitely after that. It was a supposed happy occasion, the common miracle we call birth. My first....I mean I attended it, I didn't give it. My beautiful friend Lynn delivered her baby this morning.
I had been awake for nearly 30 hours when I finally laid my head to a pillow. I didn't sleep long before I was awakened by flashbacks. I couldn't stop seeing the images of the event. I felt like I had just come from a battlefield with all the pain and blood and desperation and piercing cries you would expect. People know childbirth is painful, we've been told, we've seen movies.
But I think it's very similar to death. Wait. Let me finish. I mean that we all know our lives are littered with death, people we love die, we drive past dead animals on the road, we eat things that once were living. But we all go on with our lives....we keep driving. We still order burgers. We return to work after the funeral. We walk around, acting as if everything is okay. As if death does not stalk us at every turn.
I have seen people dying, I have given death to animals and been present when others have done so. I often feel and think about the death of the animals I eat or the poor dog on the side of the road. But I know this isn't normal. Most people have other things to concern themselves with while eating and driving.
When I was up this afternoon, not being able to sleep because of the frightening images I couldn't shake, and certainly not yet rested, I started to think about my mother. I thought about the 8 hours she had labored for me. I thought about my husband's mom, and about the 24 hours she labored for him. I thought about my grandmother's births and about my friends who had children. I thought about co-workers and strangers. I thought about women through time who had been called upon to be mothers. They all had done this. With few exceptions, every human who has lived has been born through this long and arduous process. Right? Haven't they? I am astounded. I had no idea it was like this. I had no idea what an hour of labor looked like. I didn't know what an hour of pushing looked like. Books and videos don't come close. Obviously.
And we all walk around as if this didn't happen. Or as if it's not the biggest deal on our planet. Mothers go on about their lives as though they had not walked through this impossibly difficult valley. And the rest of us do too. We forget most of the time that the most formidable task humans ever do was done by our moms. I cannot wrap my brain around the fact that women must face this to bring life into the world.
I broke down a few times during the 30 hours....I am still breaking down every 4-6 hours or so. My friend broke down a hundred times during her labor. At least. Not because she wasn't strong or fierce or determined. That is just what happens. But after breaking down, she would come back for more. And more.
It was both the most beautiful and the darkest thing I have ever seen. And it is happening all the time.
So what people run into burning buildings. So what if they fight wars. So what if they save lives or discover or invent or build or sacrifice. Today I am convinced that no hero honored for any thing is as great or as honorable or as worthy as Lynn is. Or my own mother. Or your own mother. Or any mother you see in any market or car or park or anywhere.
It must be that because things are common we ignore them....maybe we have to ignore them to live a life.
My mom taught me to wipe my butt. That's huge. Not my butt, I mean how important that is. Seriously. And how to feed myself. What is more important than that? But I just go through life eating and pooping on my own as if those skills came with no effort.
I am really rambling. But I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of this. Mothers are walking among us like regular people. But they are not. They are super-people.
This web of blood and pain is the ugly and beautiful reality of the world. The mundane is the miraculous. Common is phenomenal. The term holy ground is redundant. It's all holy.
I had been awake for nearly 30 hours when I finally laid my head to a pillow. I didn't sleep long before I was awakened by flashbacks. I couldn't stop seeing the images of the event. I felt like I had just come from a battlefield with all the pain and blood and desperation and piercing cries you would expect. People know childbirth is painful, we've been told, we've seen movies.
But I think it's very similar to death. Wait. Let me finish. I mean that we all know our lives are littered with death, people we love die, we drive past dead animals on the road, we eat things that once were living. But we all go on with our lives....we keep driving. We still order burgers. We return to work after the funeral. We walk around, acting as if everything is okay. As if death does not stalk us at every turn.
I have seen people dying, I have given death to animals and been present when others have done so. I often feel and think about the death of the animals I eat or the poor dog on the side of the road. But I know this isn't normal. Most people have other things to concern themselves with while eating and driving.
When I was up this afternoon, not being able to sleep because of the frightening images I couldn't shake, and certainly not yet rested, I started to think about my mother. I thought about the 8 hours she had labored for me. I thought about my husband's mom, and about the 24 hours she labored for him. I thought about my grandmother's births and about my friends who had children. I thought about co-workers and strangers. I thought about women through time who had been called upon to be mothers. They all had done this. With few exceptions, every human who has lived has been born through this long and arduous process. Right? Haven't they? I am astounded. I had no idea it was like this. I had no idea what an hour of labor looked like. I didn't know what an hour of pushing looked like. Books and videos don't come close. Obviously.
And we all walk around as if this didn't happen. Or as if it's not the biggest deal on our planet. Mothers go on about their lives as though they had not walked through this impossibly difficult valley. And the rest of us do too. We forget most of the time that the most formidable task humans ever do was done by our moms. I cannot wrap my brain around the fact that women must face this to bring life into the world.
I broke down a few times during the 30 hours....I am still breaking down every 4-6 hours or so. My friend broke down a hundred times during her labor. At least. Not because she wasn't strong or fierce or determined. That is just what happens. But after breaking down, she would come back for more. And more.
It was both the most beautiful and the darkest thing I have ever seen. And it is happening all the time.
So what people run into burning buildings. So what if they fight wars. So what if they save lives or discover or invent or build or sacrifice. Today I am convinced that no hero honored for any thing is as great or as honorable or as worthy as Lynn is. Or my own mother. Or your own mother. Or any mother you see in any market or car or park or anywhere.
It must be that because things are common we ignore them....maybe we have to ignore them to live a life.
My mom taught me to wipe my butt. That's huge. Not my butt, I mean how important that is. Seriously. And how to feed myself. What is more important than that? But I just go through life eating and pooping on my own as if those skills came with no effort.
I am really rambling. But I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of this. Mothers are walking among us like regular people. But they are not. They are super-people.
This web of blood and pain is the ugly and beautiful reality of the world. The mundane is the miraculous. Common is phenomenal. The term holy ground is redundant. It's all holy.
posted by hymenoptera's honey at 9:13 PM
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