I just re-realized that every single one of the people who tell me to get over it--in reference to shitty traumatic births have never had a homebirth, never seen a homebirth, and have major unresolved stuff about their own births-- or even more ridiculous--no baby at all.
This little thought helps me to understand where people are coming from when it seems they are coming at me. I am stepping off of the merry go round that goes like this:
I was cut in half!
No body helped me!
I was denied then entire process of birthing! The hormonal rush---just kapoot--did not occur!
I have undergone major surgery--isnt that enough to garner some loving care?
I am not pregnant anymore--where is the baby? How can there be a baby without labor or pushing or birthing?
Why do they need me to be so happy? Is it truly weird to be sad when something shitty is going on?
My homebirth renewed and renewed and renewed me, each day a little more. The vast majority of people will never understand this--but for them to take it so far as to deny the existence of this phenomenon is absurd.
We get so freaking loopy about the Olympic athletes---we accept their triumph and their rush and their victories---and all they get is a stupid medal-probably isnt even real gold. But a mother, one who has truly undergone labor and birth, has experienced something so victorious and so triumphant--but that makes people feel weird. Squirmy. Images of naked ladies victorious is just waaaay off the acceptable scale for most people. Because there is a vulnerability in the victorious new mother. and victory as dictated to us by the modern media, entails Independence, vigor, and--yes--clothing and being a male help alot, too.
Being strong, super strong, outrageously strong, move-mountains strong is what birthing Mamas are. Either you have been there or you havnt. Either youve seen it or youve done it or you havent. There is no father at a homebirth who has to be coaxed off of his cell phone because the baby is crowning. There are no dry eyes in a room when a superwoman has bellowed and roared and conquered the oceans of hurricane force waves fpr her fetus/baby/savior. Either youve seen this, youve been there, youve done this, or you have not. I am not sure if there is any more human and normal and natural thing that is so secreted away in all of our civilization. Where do we come from, how did we get here--all a secret. Shhh shhh nice blue gowns...Mommy will be back in about 6 days....the baby came out of her tummy.
B U L L S H I T
Strong and vulnerable protect her space, yes she is naked yes she is turning inside out, bloody, open as you could ever be, baby so vulnerable, also bloody also naked, but strong as hell, the both of them.
The male model of "Strength" we all are so familiar with is what got us Mamas into our blue gowns and our stranded beetle positions in the first place. The men wanted to see what was going on in there. They were jealous and intimidated by the strength, the mystery, the miraculous miracle. Apparently it wasnt enough to go watch the goats or the lambs or the cats give birth---they wanted to see the women, and like an antiquated precursor to Television Viewing, a front row seat with a great view sounded just peachy. Lay her on her back! Demanded the menfolk---no no said the midwives and the Mamas and the friends--they never do it that way--Lay her on her back so we can SEE! ---and then the boys took over. Men, medicine, and the strength of the women, in such a vulnerable time, such an ebbing and flowing and precious and SACRED time--the time of birthing--was severely severely interrupted. Lay her down, stare at her privacy, glare at her, measure her, judge her, monitor her, QUANTIFY THIS EVENT BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY GODDAMNIT!...well that was the beginning of the end.
But there are still so few people at least in my sphere that even could begin to get this, and I cant blame them anymore. For the bloggers that do, I love you. For the people that dont, I am sorry for you. You dont know about something that is EXTREMELY important to know about. True Birth.
and I ramble and I hit "post" and I move forward : )