I’ve been thinking a lot about how my body knew things my mind wasn’t ready to accept; how I was taught to disobey my inner-knowing. I read recently that our unconscious mind sometimes knows things before our conscious mind is aware. I’ve been keeping that as a seed in the back of my head.
My labor with Sonny started with my water breaking. It was the first time in labor that my body sent me a direct, unmistakeable, message.
Hooper was 11 days late and had to be induced, sending my hopes for a home birth down the drain. Instead, I endured pitocin induced tetanic contractions in the absence of an epidural and was wheeled down the L&D hall, completely nude, on all fours, screaming while simultaneously confronting the fact I was being taken to the operating room. Just after opening my mouth to allow the anesthesiologist to assess for any dental abnormalities prior to any intubation, Hooper was vacuumed out of me with the one, final chance they gave me to deliver him naturally.
Van was closer to two weeks late and my labor with him started with contractions and while the phase preceding the pushing phase was rather short, I pushed and pushed – at home, in a tub, out of a tub, in any and every position – to no avail. I ended up in an ambulance on the way to the hospital where a big burly man did CPR-like compressions on my abdomen that ultimately delivered Van.
With Sonny, my body completely took over. It’s almost as if it had something to prove. I was told not to push in the car. I was told not to push in the elevator. I remember them struggling to get me in the bed to get me “set up” to deliver. I also remember them checking me to see how dilated I was and it felt like the room completely paused when the nurse who checked me announced I was only 6cm. The rush seemed to completely stop. I could feel the room looking down on me as if I was exaggerating, as if I didn’t know and couldn’t be trusted. I felt as defeated as you can feel when you’re in the throes of laborland; meaning it was a momentary disappointment because my body knew what they didn’t. I was listening to my body and nobody else. I can distinctly remember tuning everyone out and solely concentrating on Sonny. I felt like pushing, so I pushed. And ten minutes after being told I was 6cm, Sonny was earthside.
I’m starting to remember these times of knowing. They come in waves and erase the fog. Windshield wipers of the soul. I’ve known, I’ve always known. Our bodies are our best messengers. I’m leaning in so hard to my body these days, rooting myself in my center, making amends to my inner-knowing.
