More lessons...

Last night, Joe and I had dinner with a family member who was asking about our birthing plan. As soon as the topic came up, I could feel my insides tighten. I braced myself for the questions that I, myself, am still exploring. What I know is that I intuitively trust, or believe in, home birth as a gentle and safe way to bring a baby into this world. However, I could hear the tone of my voice, and feel the tightness of my breathing, and sense that I was immediately on the defense.

Here's the reality. I know that some people who we care about will not agree with or fully understand this decision. I also have heard concerns that home birthing, while comfortable for the mother, may not be safe for the baby. That one, in particular, triggers me. If I did not believe this was safe for my baby, I would not be choosing this path. (Of course, I also believe that what triggers us is really about our own insecurities. Clearly, I am not yet feeling totally grounded in my own mothering instincts.) I realize that home birthing is not necessarily something many people are knowledgable about, and only months ago, I, myself, may have raised an eyebrow. Why not birth in a hospital, where you have every back-up medical device and trained professional that you may need? What if...?

Before bed last night, I picked up the book I am reading, "Ina May's Guide to Childbirth". I know it may not sound like a relaxing, bedtime book, but its quite reassuring. It has many stories of women's birthing experiences, most of them homebirth, but many in a birthing center and some within hospitals. These stories remind me of all the reasons for this choice, and of all the resources available to me. However, I was only a few stories into it when I put the book down, placed my hands on my belly, and whispered, "what do YOU want?"

I haven't lost my mind. Even though Joe and I play "magic 8-ball" with the baby's kicks (kick once if you are a boy... kick once if you want to be named 'x'...), I did not expect to get a response. My hope was that I would connect with my intuition about giving birth.

No response. I had jumped on the worry boat and was momentarily riding through the rocky waters of self-doubt. You see, when others ask me "yeah but, aren't you worried about this?" or say "my only worry is...", a part of me tightens up. I know that place - the worry boat - and that's not the platform I want to carry me through this wonderful, and yet vulnerable, time. So I tense up, as if to defend myself from jumping on that raft, until I remember to breathe again.

When I awoke this morning, I was contemplating my reaction last night, and what it was really all about. What I came up with is this: I was in the place of needing others to understand and approve of our choice. We actually do have the support of our family. Its my own need to feel that my mothering instincts are not being judged, or questioned. I know this is fruitless, for how others view me and my choices is through their own lens of the world. The real question is: Do I have confidence in myself, and our ability to choose what's best for our baby, given all the unknowns?

Here, again, is the practice of letting go. Letting go of needing others to agree with our choices; Letting go of needing to have it all figured out, or to be 100% sure; Letting go of looking for answers in any place other than within ourselves.

When I step off that worry-boat (I'm really milking this, aren't I?), I do feel confident. That doesn't mean that I don't have worries or fears that linger in the recesses, and sometimes forefront of my mind. Am I really mama-material? Will everything be ok?

I remind myself: Let go of the controls, Erin. You're in for the ride of your life, and you will never "know" for certain what's ahead. Follow your instincts.