Birth and Rebirth: Healing and Transformation after Baby #2
In January of this year, towards the end of my second pregnancy, I took myself on a weekend solo retreat. I desperately needed the time away. It had been an exciting and truly exhausting year in which I successfully launched my business, grew a whole human in my body, tended to my other small human and, well, lived life.
The busyness had also meant that I’d only sort of contended with the trauma I’d experienced during my first birth and postpartum period, and thus I’d been repressing the anxiety in anticipation of a second. As much as I was telling myself that this time could and would be different, I hadn’t really allowed myself to visualize a truly empowering birth and postpartum experience, for fear that I’d get my hopes up and then it wouldn’t happen. It was easier to imagine the worst as a way of protecting myself from disappointment.
Knowing that I needed a little space to breathe as work wound down and preparation for the new baby ramped up, I decamped to Mill Valley for a few nights, staying in a sweet little cabin in the Redwoods. There, I read, watched movies, rested, made labor playlists, and sat in silence. I journaled, cried, and of course dug into a Tarot reading in the hopes that I could gain some confidence and clarity about the coming event and subsequent upheaval of our lives.
What came up loud and clear in the reading was that the impending birth - and the period of time following it - would offer an opportunity for healing. I didn’t know exactly what this meant, but I began to be more fully open to the possibility that the arrival of my second child could offer some kind of healing experience, and an opportunity to experience some closure of my initial, somewhat rocky foray into motherhood.
Six months and a second baby later, I can report that it did, albeit in unexpected ways. Here are some of the most salient lessons and opportunities for healing that my sweet daughter’s arrival brought forth for me.
I realized that I can’t control the outcome - only my reaction to it. In the end, my daughter's birth was even more wild and unexpected than my son’s, with even higher highs and lower lows. There is zero chance I could have predicted how it would go, but the point wasn’t whether I could predict or control the actual outcome or experience, but rather how I’d be able to react to the reality. Shit went kind of haywire, just like the birth of my son. But I noticed that my nervous system stayed steadier, and in turn so did my daughter’s. With each twist and turn, I had the opportunity to react differently to the present moment, and stay grounded in the concept that no matter what happened, we’d be ok. In doing so, my body learned a sort of resilience that only comes from surrendering control and then coming out on the other side.
I let myself feel my feelings. Having been through the postpartum period once, I knew that I’d need to give myself a lot of space to feel my feelings, hormone-induced or otherwise. Everyone knows intellectually that postpartum can be rocky for most women, but it still doesn’t feel socially acceptable to struggle emotionally when you’re supposed to be in bliss, bonding with a new baby. Because I’d been there before, this time I gave myself the literal space (no overnight visitors for a month!) and the time to really be with the rollercoaster that is postpartum. I knew that the ride would eventually end, and I also knew that working through the hard feelings coming up - anger, overwhelm, and even grief - would deliver me to the softer, more tender and connective parts of the journey more whole.
I explored my relationship to worth and value. Taking “maternity leave” as a solopreneur means that I’ve been unpaid during my time with my daughter. I’ve been privileged to have had paid time off in the past, and yet it’s a tough pill to swallow. In a society that tells women that their labor in parenting holds no real worth, I’ve had to remember that what I am doing every day: holding my own emotions and healing my body; caring for our baby daughter and providing emotional support for our son as his world changes; navigating an ever increasing workload to keep our home in tact…all of that is WORK. Despite myself, I didn’t realize the extent, until now, that I equate value with money. It reminds me that I have a lot of continued healing to do in my relationship with work, money, and the importance of rest (as do most of us!)
I accepted (or tried to) my physical limitations. Whether it’s because I’m 39 this time around or because I’m just 1000% more tired, this pregnancy and postpartum were way harder on my body than my first go around. Throughout my pregnancy, I had to work hard to accept that I was physically limited. As someone who prides themselves on being strong, I struggled with this, mightily. I still do. I want my body to be able to do what I want it to be able to do, and it’s hard to feel sidelined by recovery - as if I am somehow weak. But I’m learning that accepting my physical limitations as they are without judgment or the need to control is perpetual and worthy work. And - that celebrating my body for its accomplishments and feats (two beautiful humans!) changes my perspective drastically and necessarily.
All of the above are invitations that I try, and often fail, to accept daily. Ultimately, it’s the process that makes the biggest mark, not any sort of perfect final destination. I’ll never likely arrive at a moment when motherhood feels like a breeze, and that’s ok. I’m still learning every day, and over time, I’m transforming. As a coach, this may be the lesson that most animates my work – a deep belief that our most powerful growth can come from our most challenging moments. That on the other side of pain comes rebirth.
