In the Hills of Mystery

2008 was the year of carrying Henry around on the inside. And I learned a lot during the year. Really, a lot. And the Bob Dylan song, “Born in Time” (the version from Tell Tale Signs, not the version from “Under the Red Sky” which is really different lyrically, FYI) has become capital-T The song. Below are some things I learned and some bits and pieces of the song. (I wrote this before he was born.)

• Making a decision to make this pregnancy a healing experience: admitting my ignorance about my first pregnancy and birth experience, acknowledging culpability for consequences (C-section), forgiving the OB I feel wronged me, getting educated, and making different choices.

• Moving through the emotions of the c-section birth (powerlessness, failure, confusion, resentment). Not just acknowledging the emotions, experiencing them and reckoning with them. Otherwise they will not and cannot get out of your way.

“You were snow
you were rain
you were striped
you were plain…”

• After I did all of the learning, I had to let it all go, and trust that I had internalized what I would need for labor and delivery. And trust that the people I had chosen to help me would bring their own instincts and training to fill in where I would need support.

“I think of you in black and white

When we were made of dreams…”

• Being vulnerable is not easy, but it is necessary. Ben and I have grown closer during this pregnancy because of my being willing to be more vulnerable rather than just “taking care of everything” myself.

“Out on the rising curve
Where the ways of nature will test every nerve…”

• Messed up boiling eggs one morning. Ben said to slow boil them; I thought that meant just turn the burner on a low temperature. I was really hungry, so got extremely pissed at Ben when, having already waited 12 minutes two eggs might be wasted. “I hate feeling perpetually incompetent!!!” I said to Ben. “Mommy needs to feel that way sometimes,” Ben said to Sophie.

• Breech scare: Having done all of this work - the research, the informed choices, the diet adjustments, etc., it was crushing - a real slap in the face - to imagine that Henry being breech would negate all my work. (Breech babies are an automatic C-Section these days.) After sitting with that a day or two, I realized that I was not really in control of anything that happened during this pregnancy, and would not be in control of anything that happened during the birth. All I could do was prepare as best I could, and then go with the flow.

“You were smooth
You were rough
You were more
Than enough…”

• At this point, I am able to accept that no matter what happens during the birth, this pregnancy and the work I’ve done to prepare for the birth has been an extremely important thing for me. To see how a care provider (midwife) can work with me in a caring, nurturing way, to see how birth can be outside of the cultural, mainstream notions about it, to really engage in my emotional life, to acknowledge my body and its power.

“Just when I thought
you were gone
you came back
just when I was ready
to receive ya’…”

• The pregnancy has also challenged my own ideas about myself - and how I want others to see me. (Competent, not overly emotional, in control.) What other things is it okay for others to see in me, for me to be? Vulnerable, scared, confused, discouraged, in pain: all of these are things I have been during pregnancy and will be in labor. At some point during an inexplicable, hormonally-induced crying jag in month eight or nine, I said to Ben, “So far things have been pretty fine and good and I’ve been okay. But that’s going to be different now.” And Ben said, “That’s fine. I’m not going to judge you.” The other side of “I’m not going to judge you,” is, of course, “I’m going to love you no matter what.” And that is powerful. And I know it in a different way now. And that is good.

“In the hills of mystery,
In the foggy web of destiny,
You’re still so deep inside of me,
When we were born in time…”