My C-Section Was Transformative and Empowering

May you live in interesting times. That Chinese blessing/curse has come to my mind many times during this past year since my son was born. With just weeks to go before his first birthday, and with another son on the way soon, I find myself reflecting on the experiences of labor, birth, postpartum, and my first year as a mother.
As I prepare for this second experience, I realize that I still have many fears associated with the actual, physical process of giving birth. Some of that goes back to childhood. Some of it is rooted in my homebirth that became a cesarian section.
I have never felt like I made a mistake in choosing cesarian. Nor did I ever feel like I was forced or bullied into the decision. I know that a lot of women have those feelings but that was not my experience. When we arrived at the hospital, I finally felt safe. I felt truly cared for; I felt like the caregivers around us were paying attention. My homebirth experience, unfortunately, mostly just triggered old feelings of being neglected, abandoned, invisible, misunderstood. The exception to that was our wonderful doula, who never left my side until the next day when my son was finally placed into my arms. So, my experience was unlike many I have read about, and I was so very grateful to be in loving, competent hands.
Nonetheless, I have still struggled with feelings of disappointment, failure, and heartbreak. And there were many other perceived disappointments, failures and heartbreaks that characterized this past year. I discovered that my incredible, loving husband is a wonderful, natural, hands-on dad, but that he really isn't cut out to be a therapist or a girlfriend to a woman mired in postpartum depression and anxiety. In other words, I discovered some of the limitations of my marriage, at a rather tough time to be discovering them.
My depression and anxiety also delayed bonding with my son, which only drove me deeper into said depression and anxiety, and pushed me towards serious considerations of suicide. "They would be so much better off without me" was a refrain that echoed through my mind daily for a while.
In addition to that, breastfeeding was a struggle, and I found myself attached to a breast pump night and day for four months, until the sleep deprivation threatened to take away the last little bits of my sanity, and we transitioned our son to formula.
My son hated, but hated, to be worn in a sling. In my mind, I really started to panic. I really worried that without breastfeeding or babywearing, our struggles to bond would become a permanent feature of our relationship. Now, I can see that it was my depression and anxiety that got in the way more than anything else.
And so went many of the hopes and expectations I had had as a new parent. As each decision was made, I did my best to accept it, to make peace with it, and to move forward. But it was hard.
Just as we were all starting to get some decent sleep on a regular basis, I found out I was pregnant again. I was shocked. I spent many weeks alternately feeling numb and crying, hard. My husband was excited from the start, but I just couldn't get past the thought that I would have to survive another armageddon. All that sleep deprivation, and the way it obliterates my perspective, not to mention my filters. The struggles, the disappointments, the breast pump.
But I couldn't give this baby up. I am and always will be firmly, wholeheartedly pro-choice and in favor of legal, safe abortion, but I knew in my heart that I could not end this pregnancy. It slowly began to dawn on me: I wanted this baby.
And so I set about the work of filling in the gaps that were missing for me in this past year. I hated where we were living. I was isolated and incredibly lonely. I didn't know how I would find caregivers for my pregnancy and delivery, as the midwives I know of cannot work with VBAC patients. Nor did I really want another homebirth.
Other than one generous, compassionate local friend and her family, I really didn't have any connections to other OC moms. Nor did I feel comfortable at either the Attachment Parenting groups, or the Gymboree groups. I don't fit in to either paradigm. (A RIE group would be absolutely perfect, but the closest ones are in LA County).
As always, my husband was totally supportive of any changes I proposed making in order to be happier. We moved from our cramped apartment under power lines and next to the freeway to a very charming little house in a very friendly little neighborhood. We did some marriage counseling to help us to move forward and heal the hurts and resentments of the past year, and the early years of our marriage. I started working individually with a therapist who specializes in postpartum depression and new mommmyhood. I joined a wonderful mothering group that meets monthly. I have found tremendous support and connection in these new bonds.
Through all of this, I felt an intense need to withdraw from many of the other "connections" I had been looking to in vain for support. I deleted my Facebook account. I went into a cocoon. I knew that I was undergoing some kind of tremendous change, but I didn't really understand from what, into what. All I knew was that it was new, and fragile. I felt sadness and self-pity, too, but I couldn't help but pull back into myself-- whoever that was.
I've come to realize that what I've been feeling is shame and disappointment. Shame at my perceived failures and limitations, and disappointment that I didn't get my "I just climbed Mount Everest!" moment of exhilaration, joy and triumph at pushing out my son. That, I thought, was what it meant to have a transformative and empowering birth experience. The other kind, I believed, simply can't be those things. It just can't, it isn't. It's done for you. You're rescued. You don't get to triumph. You just have to learn to live without that accomplishment. The shame didn't come from the women I knew who had successful homebirths, or anyone else around me. It's all coming from within, and it's all predicated on these beliefs.
So then, how to go forward into another birth? Another baby? Another postpartum experience? I realized that I need to confront these fears and insecurities, and I started to look around for resources specific to that goal. And just as I was beginning my search, I received an e-mail from a pregnancy and mothering coach that I had spoken with when my son was about four months old. That was three days ago. She is starting up new class, and invited me to join. I read the description on her website, and it sounded like a possible fit. There was even a session targeted specifically at confronting fears. But the group setting and the idea of being "coached" gave me a lot of pause for concern. I don't want to set myself up for failure, or to feel judged or defensive around other moms who are excited about natural/home/water/unassisted birth. With my OB, I do have the option of VBAC, but that will require spontaneous labor, as induction isn't an option. Otherwise, a surgery will be scheduled at 41 weeks. And I have already decided that I want a hospital birth, and probably an epidural as well. How would I fit in to such a group, if at all? I talked it over in therapy, and with my sister, and more or less made up my mind to pass, and try to do the work of confronting my fears on my own.
And then yesterday happened. I decided to phone the pregnancy coach, get some more information about the class, and talk to her directly about my concerns. She was, as in the past, accessible, warm, and genuinely listening. And as she listened, she picked up on not only my fears about childbirth, but my lingering sense of having failed at my first birth. She asked me if I felt that I had made a mistake, and I said no. I told her that, in fact, I felt that I had made the right call, and that my hospital experience had been wonderful and nurturing. I went on to tell her that over the past year, I had been undergoing a process of major change. My tendency to see everything in black-and-white, good-and-bad, correct-and-incorrect, had been (is being) seriously challenged by my experiences. That I felt-- as I have often said to my husband-- that I had been given a real gift, a "secret" insight that I never would have received if all of my granola mama goals and aspirations had been easily granted to me. If it had all fallen into place easily, in fact, I probably would have become insufferably self-righteous. I would have been Maggie Gyllenhaal in Away We Go.
Instead, I have been given the gift of moderation. I used to believe that the middle was where people lived when they just didn't know or didn't care enough to find out. That it was the breeding ground of the uninformed and lazy. Now I realize that moderation and compromise and flexibility can actually be an informed and intelligent, compassionate and loving way to live. I am being transformed. Into what, I still don't yet know, exactly.
As I talked, Justine listened intently. Then she pointed out something that completely rocked me to my core. She said, "You just described your experience as transformative and empowering. And that's exactly how I feel about mine. It doesn't matter that yours was a c-section and mine was a natural birth. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. You have within you all the answers you need."
I choked back tears. She was right. I had just never put it all together before. My cesarian section was transformative and empowering. It wasn't the Mount-Everest-summiting kind of transformation and empowerment I had envisioned, so I never realized it until that moment. No, it was a slow, painful, enlightening, informative, excruciating process. Justine went on to say, "From the greatest pain comes the greatest wisdom." And she was right. My pain was not the pain of natural childbirth, as I had expected. It was an entirely different kind of anguish.
When I think about it, most of my changes have taken me down such a road. And that probably has something to do with my disposition. I tend to be extremely stubborn. I don't like change. And I have a huge ego. I tend to go kicking and screaming. I don't like the loss of control that change entails. I don't like the not-knowing. And so, any change I do undergo tends to be a burn-it-down, rise-from-the-ashes kind of experience. And that is what this year has been.
Never again can I tell myself that my cesarian section was a disappointment, a failure, a heartbreak.

My cesarian section was transformative and empowering.

My son was born the way he needed to be born. For his own sake, and for mine. I can go forward from here.

Our Little Man

Woo hoo! We've reached the 20-week mark with a great ultrasound exam yesterday, so I finally feel like I can "go public" with some pictures and start posting about this openly.

May as well start with some pics.




This one says "No Jello for me" because we were making the tech laugh with our tale of researching the ingredients in Jello pudding. (You know when there are OSHA regulations specific to a chemical in your food, something is not quite right!)



I stared at these pictures for so many hours yesterday that I started to imagine that something was wrong. Specifically, I convinced myself that somehow the doctor and the ultrasound technician at the *high risk clinic* had failed to notice that our son's nose and forehead were deformed. I spent hours on Google looking for possible explanations for this. I put calls in to my mom and sister to get their input and/or some assistance with being talked down off the ledge. I forwarded the pictures to an expectant friend who has looked at more ultrasounds than I have. I put a call in to the clinic asking them to take another look. I started researching reconstructive surgery options, in case the deformity was severe. In short, I completely went off the rails. I am told this is normal behavior for an expectant mother. Well, all I can say for myself is, at least I'm not like this every day... I suppose the ability to peek in there and see a baby-in-progress really is a blessing and a curse.

The very nice technician called me back and left a long message explaining that they had reviewed the pictures, and that she "didn't know what pictures [I was] looking at" but that "this kid's head looks perfect to [her]".

I went to bed feeling calmer-- or maybe I had simply exhausted myself. I woke up this morning and looked again. I could no longer see anything wrong. I've decided that he's perfect, and actually quite handsome.

The big 20wk ultrasound was the last big milestone in my mind before I felt I could relax. And I do feel much more relaxed now that I've worked through that non-crisis, and realized that we got nothing but great news at our visit today. The baby is measuring right on target, he had no markers to indicate any potential issues, and we feel comfortable about foregoing amniocentesis.

I really feel optimistic about being able to enjoy the rest of this pregnancy in a great frame of mind.

Puedo Escribir Los Versos . . .

by Pablo Neruda

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.

Write, for example, 'The night is shattered,
and the blue stars shiver in the distance.'

The night wind revolves in the sky and sings.

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
I loved him, and sometimes he loved me too.

Through nights like this one I held him in my arms.
I kissed him again and again under the endless sky.

He loved me, and sometimes I loved him too.
How could one not have loved his great still eyes?

Tonight I can write the saddest lines.
To think that I do not have him. To feel that I have lost him.

To hear the immense night, still more immense without him,
And the verse falls to the soul like dew to the pasture.

What does it matter that my love could not keep him.
That night is shattered and he is not with me.

This is all. In the distance someone is singing. In the distance.
My soul is not satisfied that it has lost him.

My sight searches for him as though to go to him.
My heart looks for him, and he is not with me.

The same night whitening the same trees.
We, of that time, are no longer the same.

I no longer love him, that is certain, but how I loved him.
My voice tried to find the wind to touch his hearing.

Another's. He will be another's. Like my kisses before.
His voice. His bright body. His infinite eyes,

I no longer love him, that is certain, but maybe I love him.
Love is so short, forgetting is so long.

Because through nights like this one I held him in my arms
my soul is not satisfied that it has lost him.

Though this be the last pain that he makes me suffer,
and these the last verses that I write for him.

-adapted from the original

Andy Garcia reading the original, from Il Postino

An Interview with Amma on the Nature of the Ego

I have long wanted to meet Mata Amritanandamayi (Amma) in person and sit in darshan with her. She is said to be an incarnation of the Divine Mother. If nothing else, I'm curious to experience one of her world-famous hugs!

This is a very interesting article/interview with Amma on the subject of the ego. Much food for thought!

When You Go Beyond the Ego You Become an Offering to the World

An interview with Mata Amritanandamayi by Amy Edelstein

What I am finding fascinating in her discussion of ego is her insistence on the fact that the ego is simply unreal. Eckhart Tolle discusses the ego in a very similar manner. In response to the question, What is ego?, she has this to say:

You are actually asking, what is unreality? But how can unreality be described? What use is there in talking about something that isn't real, that is nonexistent? And how can you speak about that which is real? Amma can only give you a few hints. The mind is the ego. But the ego is a big lie—it is a liar. It is unreal.

In Western thought we tend to frame the ego as a foe to enlightenment, happiness, or spiritual evolution. But in Eastern thought, the ego is an illusion. It's soooo easy for me to forget this! Over and over again, I slip back into the belief that the ego must be defeated, conquered, or killed. Seems an insurmountable task-- and rather scary. Again- Western psychology, still Freudian in more ways than it wants to admit, still insists that the ego is a necessary part of the psyche that must be healed, strengthened, and then somehow reined in. It is there for our protection, we just can't let it drive the bus. This, in contrast, is Ammachi's take:

The ego is an illusion with no existence of its own. It appears to be real because of the power it derives from the Atman [Self]. It is animated by the Atman. The ego itself can be compared to dead matter; for without the Atman, it would have no life. Stop supporting the ego, and it will withdraw and disappear. We ourselves lend the unreal ego its reality. Expose it for what it is, or rather, for what it isn't, and that will be the end of it.

What Amma seems to be saying is that the more we disidentify with the ego as something real, the less effect it has and the more we move towards a consciousness of that which IS real-- that we are all one, that there really is no otherness. This seems simple to me, and I really believe that the deepest truths about life ARE simple. Not complicated at all, like my EGO wants to make them. More Ammachi:

The ego consists of our thoughts and our mind. Our thoughts are our own creation. We make them real by cooperating with them. If we withdraw our support, they will dissolve. We simply have to observe our thoughts. [...] If we simply witness our thoughts as they drift by, they will no longer have any effect on us or influence us in any way.

I love the Tolle/Eastern view so much more because it takes away the combative aspect of this struggle. "To Do: Conquer Ego over and over again every day." So exhausting! What Amma, Tolle and other gurus seem to be saying is, realize that the ego is a complete illusion. When asked What is ego death for the true seeker of moksha [liberation]?, Amma replies:

If the ego is unreal, what death are you talking about? We superimpose the unreal on the real. What really exists is Brahman. There is no discovery, only uncovering.

But the Western interviewer persists: Is it possible for a master to completely annihilate their ego?

A mahatma [great soul] is one who disidentifies with the ego; they see everything as an extension of the Self. Due to our ignorance, we identify with the ego, with that which is not real, but a mahatma is not identified at all with the ego, with that which is unreal.

Lest it all sound too easy, I will say that Amma does, of course, advocate the guru-disciple relationship as absolutely crucial to this process:

Though that subtle knowledge is our true nature, we have been identified with the world of names and forms for so long, thinking them to be real. We now need to cease that identification. But in reality, there is nothing to teach. A master simply helps you to complete the journey.

She also discusses the importance of studying with a true master, and the dangers of delusion:

There will be many temptations and challenges along the way. Only an experienced person can help you. The way to moksha is very subtle, and it is easy for a spiritual aspirant to become deluded. [...]

So would you say that people like this have become more proud as a result of having had spiritual experiences? Can spiritual experiences at times strengthen the ego in a negative way?

The people to whom this happens are deluded, and they confuse others as well. They will actually push others into delusion. Some people gain a glimpse of something, or have a spiritual experience, and then think they have attained moksha. Only someone who is not realized will think, "I am spiritual, I am realized," and this will create a strong, subtle ego. A subtle ego is more dangerous than a gross ego. Even the individuals themselves won't understand that the subtle ego is leading or motivating them, and this subtle ego will become part of their nature. [...]

Amma also feels that this kind of pride makes people lose their capacity to listen. And listening is extremely important on the spiritual path. A person who does not listen cannot be humble. And it is only when we are truly humble that the already existing pure Consciousness will be unfolded within us.

Once again, Amma returns to her straightforward message, in discussing dharma, purity, and love:

By loving life with the right attitude and having the right understanding, we will know what the right thing to do is. And then, if we perform our dharma, purity will come. [...] Love isn't something that can be cultivated—it's already within us in all its fullness. Life cannot exist without love; they are inseparable. Life and love are not two; they are one and the same. A little bit of the proper channeling of your energies will awaken the love within you.

This gives my soul a deep sigh of relief!

On Deserving and Joy

Lately, with the encouragement of a very wise friend, I have been giving a lot of consideration to my own beliefs about deserving and joy. Due to a recent loss, I have been given pause to re-examine my beliefs, and how they might be contributing to a pattern that I can see clearly when I look at my life.
By just about any standard, I must say that I have been very, very blessed in many ways. My mother even goes as far as to say that I was born under a lucky star, and I can definitely see her point. In the area of career and material things, for example, I do seem to luck my way into very fortunate circumstances.
However, in other areas I have been met with many challenges. My experiences in the realm of relationships and family, in particular, seem to be characterized by a fair bit of suffering and loss. I don't know, but perhaps this pattern was set early, when my father decided he wanted to be elsewhere. That strong sense of abandonment a child feels when a parent deeply disappoints them in some fundamental way is difficult to shake; it sets up certain negative expectations about how relationships work. A sense of melancholy set in early, and soon became a part of my very identity. I have no real way of knowing whether or not my disposition would have been any different had I not been exposed to so much sadness before I was ready to make sense of it. But my strong suspicion is that it would have, because I don't believe that any child comes into this world in sadness.
My friend suggested to me that perhaps it is time for me to let go of the ideas that might be holding me back from truly experiencing joy in my life. Specifically, she said that she had observed in me a certain tendency to mistrust the unexpected blessings that arrive in my life. She picked up on my perpetual wait for the other shoe to drop, as well as my strongly held belief that certain kinds of happiness can only be achieved through suffering, through paying one's dues.
So I set about working on some affirmations in my journal. Affirmations are incredibly powerful for releasing old fears and beliefs, and they have worked beautifully for me many times in the past. I started out trying to write things like "I deserve the blessings in my life"... but that was met with some pretty strong resistance right away. How can a person deserve something without having earned it in some way? Does that even make sense?
I went to the dictionary, and I discovered that, indeed, deserving, by definition, is tied deeply to the idea of earning. I had been right to be skeptical of this idea of "deserving" one's joy. After all, life is full of evidence that people do not so much "get what they deserve", as they get what they believe they deserve. And then there are all those people to whom it never occurs to wonder whether or not they deserve any of the blessings that they enjoy. Good things seem to come to them easily, with no effort whatsoever.
So, how to get past this idea of deserving one's joy? I realized that, as long as I continue to tie the idea of deserving to my joy, it will always be kept at bay. As long as this belief persists, any blessing bestowed unexpectedly feels unearned, and a sense of guilt, mistrust, or waiting for the other shoe to drop, soon arises.
Whether this belief about suffering comes from my early religious training, American culture with its deep Calvinist roots, my family upbringing, or all three, it's time to get rid of it completely and for good.

Here are some affirmations that are working for me:

• I am ready and willing to let go of the belief that suffering is necessary for me to receive the blessings I most deeply desire.
• I now release the need to suffer or pay my dues in any way as a condition of my joy.
• I now release the need to suffer.
• I now release the need to pay my dues.
• I now release all forms of resistance to receiving my highest good.

I also noticed that I tend to get attached to the stories of my suffering that I tell. They become a part of my personal narrative, and in time, they even become a part of my identity, the way I think of myself and describe myself to others. "That's just the way I am. I've always been melancholy." or "I just have shitty luck in relationships." (That last one probably helps to explain why I didn't marry until the age of 35, after having broken off the engagement two years prior...). I realized that as long as I continue to insist on telling my sad stories, I will never move past them. So again, some affirmations...

• I now release all attachment to past, present, and future suffering.
• I now release all attachment to suffering as part of my identity.
• I consciously release all old beliefs about deserving.
• I release all need to punish myself for unexpected blessings.
• I now completely release the need to earn my joy.

And now, because the Universe abhors a vacuum, we must create new beliefs about joy, in order to fill up the space we've created by everything we just released.

• Joy is my birthright.
• I gratefully accept the unexpected blessings in my life.
• Happiness is a hallmark of my existence.
• I now allow myself to get excited about the good things in my life.
• It is safe for me to trust and enjoy the blessings I receive.
  
• I am ready and willing to receive the things and experiences I most deeply desire now.

So far, so good. In addition to this, I've been using a special format-- a ritual, really-- called a Spiral Ceremony, as I slog through the releasement of all of these old ideas and beliefs, and the creation of new beliefs that are better suited to the kind of life I so want to experience and enjoy. Here's how it works:

Write two lists:

1. All the beliefs, people, and circumstances you want out of your life.
2. All the things you want in your life
3. Consciously and completely surround yourself in a protective pink light. You may also want to ask your angels, guides, Higher Self, and/or Higher Power for their support and guidance.
4. Using a Number 2 Ticonderoga pencil, and keeping the pencil in continuous contact with the page, draw a spiral on a blank piece of paper, starting at the outside and circling inwards, while reading aloud the list of all the things you want out of your life.
5. Repeat the spiral going the opposite direction, while reading the list of all the things you want in your life.
6. When you reach the end, continue the spiral into the air while saying "And may this continue on and on, forever and ever into eternity. So be it! So it is! Amen."
7. Burn the spiral and the lists. You can keep the list of things you want in your life, but this is optional.
8. Put your feet into the ocean or into a salt water bath. Use sea salt if possible. Salt is from the ground and cleanses your energy. The ocean takes away all of the residue of everything you have released, and brings to your feet the things that you most deeply desire.
9. If you are working through a particularly difficult issue or a deeply-rooted set of beliefs, you may choose to do this ceremony seven times (within 7-10 days). 7 is a number of change and signifies to the Universe that you are serious about the changes you intend to make. Energy follows intention. I have found the Spiral Ceremony to be *very* effective! My thinking becomes clearer, my energy becomes lighter, and I have been able to change some very old patterns of behaviour in my life. I have high hopes for this current "project"... and I look forward to some new blessings, both expected and unexpected, arriving in my life very soon.
   

Good luck!! :)