Saturday, June 26, 2010

Letting Go Part 2

Our own lives...are a series of little deaths, letting go of the old to make room for something new to be born. Each of these letting-goes entails a transition- a passage - from the way things were to the way things will be.
Joan Borysenko, Ph.D. Fire in the Soul

On the morning of June 3, I sensed my pregnancy coming to an end when amniotic fluid began to leak. Bronte, Chloe, Mom, and I packed our obscene amount of luggage into the car and drove an hour into to town. After a long day of walking up and down hills in the smoldering sun in efforts to get my labor started, we went to see my midwife who gave me the disheartening news that it could still be a few days before I deliver. Tired, hot, and uncomfortable, I began to freak out. My mom suggested we go out to dinner, rent a movie, and relax in our hotel room for the night, I happily agreed thinking that if I wasn't going to have my baby I might as well ease up and enjoy myself. We went to an adorable Italian restaurant and ordered an array of delicious salads, appetizers, and pastas. Just after finishing my salad I stood up to go to the bathroom and the fluid that had been slowly tricking out all day gushed down my leg, making me ever so thankful I had chosen to wear black pants.

Several hours later, delirious from exhaustion and in the last stages of hard labor, I stood in the shower allowing warm water to fall on my low back. I knew that I had two choices: resist the pain and fight against it or breathe and let it flow through me. As I stood in the small tiled square swaying from side to side, I rested my eyelids and breathed the mantra "Let go, Let God." A feeling of calm fell over me and though the pain was monstrous, I felt at peace. Moments after I left the shower my family begged the midwives to check my progress and I was told to start pushing. Minutes shy of an hour later, my exquisite Tallulah emerged, healthy and alert.

She was born on June 4 at 4:56 am after 9 months of emotional turmoil, pain, and nausea to name a few. I experienced 10 hours of labor, 7 of which were the worst pain I have ever faced, with no drugs at a small non-profit clinic in a spotty neighborhood of San Miguel de Allende. I was accompanied by 3 midwives, 2 who spoke little to no English, but were so supportive, endearing, and involved that it transcended any need for language. 

In the few weeks since giving birth to Tallulah, my world has been turned upside down. Beside trying to recover from delivery and being awake most of the night, there is the added stress of the extensive Mexican laws preventing me from getting Tallulah's documents in a timely fashion, not having Keikai here to help and not knowing where he is, and an overall feeling of being totally lost. Through all of this my family has been helpful beyond description. Everyone has contributed much time and mind to me and I am tremendously grateful to have such a loving and giving family. Though having a newborn crying inconsolably most of the night can push you to the very edge of your sanity, when that baby ceases and looks up at you bleary-eyed and smiles, all of the feelings of frustration and exhaustion simply melt away.

Motherhood is not what I anticipated, but nothing ever is. Tallulah is more sweet and lovely than I could have ever imagined. Though I get unbearably restless at times, with the support of my family and the presence of my new love, I am reminded to slow down and let go. So many aspects of my life have changed and I am learning through my experience that instead of being attached to the way things used to be, I need to carve my way through new life chapters with an open mind and heart allowing time to heal, adjust, and enjoy the beautiful person I created.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Letting Go Part 1

For a year and a half I tried to hug his pain away. Each embrace facilitating the deterioration of my soul. I allowed and even enabled the crumbling of my spirit into the abyss of thoughtlessness that is his being. Always giving, getting nothing but hostility and passive aggression in return. Only concerned with his immediate pleasure, never caring to see the big picture. Hoarding everything, objectifying everything. The "I love you"s were bandages placed uselessly on all too serious wounds repeatedly opened and deepened by cruelty and apathy. His words mean nothing to me, come to think of it, they never have. There was always an underlying feeling of unease, all of the not-quite-truths waiting to be exposed.

I cried before our first date, at the time I wasn't sure why. After speaking with him about a meeting place, I succumb to gentle sobs in the drivers seat of my car. "This will never succeed," my intuition spoke to me. I didn't want to believe it, so I cried, gathered my composure, and met him at the state capital. After a half hour of laying on the roof of my car staring at the stars, he came walking briskly toward me, smiling, smelling of smoke and deodorant. Damp with sweat when he hugged me, I could feel the ribs of his frail figure, his heart beating quickly underneath them.

Nearly two years from the night he first penetrated my soul, our daughter emerged from the same point with more passion and light than any facet of our relationship ever possessed. She represents truth and strength, the opposite of him, of us. She came into the world surrounded by strong, intelligent, beautiful women with purpose, destined to become one herself. There is an old saying "A man dies, a child is born." In this case, a section of myself had to die to move successfully to a more positive direction. The part of me that panders and offers compassion to what can only be described as a lost cause and waist of my good intentions. Each favor offered is extended to capacity and ultimately regretted. I don't condone regret, nor do I enjoy feeling taken advantage of, which is why I must shed this piece of myself and move toward the life of manifested happiness and miracles my daughter and I rightly deserve.

If there is one thing pregnancy has taught me, it is that what is good is worth working for and what is right is not always easy. Though our relationship certainly had it's charms and perks, it was positively one-sided. It won't be easy, and it will certainly have it's complications, but letting go of this aberrant partnership is a necessary step toward rediscovering and redefining myself as a powerful woman; a mother.