0 comments on “The Beginning of the break: Part 2”

The Beginning of the break: Part 2

I don’t actually know how many parts there are to this break. And I guess I will only know when I continue to unfold them.

So, the break part 1 I wrote 21 days ago now. And in my last blog on this, I said I would be back the following week to finish it off [here if you missed it…].

So what has happened that has gotten in the way of that?

I don’t know if you believe in metaphysical stuff [If you don’t know what metaphysical is…] but after this little experience I am certainly curious enough about the real connections.

So. I wrote about the pain of worry and anxiety that first year of trying to conceive.

And I kid you not, the following day I got excruciating back pain and sciatic pain. Pain, that I can only describe as contractions. Like birthing contractions. Except, there was no reprieve from the contraction. It was just one long epic contraction. Fucking painful.

So painful, that it took me to the doctor. A place I don’t usually go much these days. But I went. I get x-rays. Scans. And it revealed that I have a bulging disc that presses right on my sciatic nerve. Like all day long.

But what does this have to do with writing about something that happened 11 years ago?

Here is the thing with stored pain.

The body remembers trauma. Science tells us that. It ain’t no hokey pokey deal anymore. It remembers and holds emotional pain. In the cells. Trapped. Waiting for release.

And, seemingly, when the body speaks to us, in a way we cannot ignore, as in the way of excruciating pain, it seems we are offered an opportunity to heal the old wounds that have been just waiting. Waiting for love and attention.

So my back and nerves call. And I listen.

I was 7 days overdue with our first bub. It was the middle of January in Australia and I was huge and swollen and big and uncomfortable and nervous. The longer that bub was in there, I knew the bigger they were growing, making it all the more difficult to get out.

So we met with our Obstetrician and decided we would go for an induction. To get things moving.

In we went. All prepared to have this baby, effortlessly and quickly.

Effortlessly and quickly. I mean, is that true? What the fuck?

But we did. Naively we walked in. Laughing at the events to come.

The gel went in. Off we went for a walk. And within about 45 minutes, the contractions began.

Exciting. It’s happening. After all that time, something was happening. Pain was happening. And off we went back to the hospital.

Fitted with a contraction monitor, my husband would watch with great interest as the little drawing needle would begin to head north. “Oh, this is a big one” he would say. Not surprising to me of course given they were happening in my body.

And on this went for hours. Hours and hours of the up and down. 5 minutes a part. Like intense. And still, no dilation.

“What do you mean it isn’t working?”. I belted out 6 hours in.

“Your cervix isn’t dilating”.

Oh great. I am fucking broken. I can’t even get a baby out of this body.

“So what now?”.

“Well, I think we prep you for a caesarean section”.

“A fucking what? But, this isn’t in my plan. This isn’t what I have researched. I didn’t pay any attention to caesarean section blah blah in antenatal classes. Fuck. No. This can’t be happening”.

And then whomp. Another fucking contraction. Oh the pain. The tears. The snot. The pain.

It was happening. I asked for some more time. Just to see. Surely it would work.

I was given more time. And nothing more happened, except I ended up in more pain and more anxiety.

So, I surrendered to the wishes of the doctor and I before I knew it, I was being wheeled around to the operating room with not gas, not drugs, not pain relief, just a fuck load of pain.

The anaesthetist came in and calmly talked me through what would be happening. At that stage I I didn’t give a shit frankly. I just wanted the pain to stop.

And the wish I desperately made, came true as soon as I curled up into a ball, holding my contracting belly while the gentle doctor gave me the numbing syrup. And the pain, it just dissolved.

I cried with relief and soon, I was capable of speaking. And soon I felt calm. And soon I would hold my baby.

In less than half an hour, I was united with our baby. Big baby. Healthy baby. And the next chapter unfolded.

We became parents, and in the moment I made a decision that I would hand my life over to be of service to this baby and it would be my job in life to provide everything he needed. Always.

In that moment, I gave no thought to the unprocessed pain my body hadn’t expressed. The cutting off of the pain, that seemed to lock in. And lock down. Quite possibly waiting for a time when I might revisit it. To release it.

So it is not a surprise to me, when I visit my acupuncturist and I am asked to describe the pain I say, “Like an unending contraction”.

When I lay on the bed and the acupuncturist checks the meridians that the pain runs on, I am told, “Isn’t it interesting. The exact route of your pain is exactly where we treat women who are in labour”.

“Get out of town”. I say. “Huh, well of course it is. And what is interesting is that it all began to be painful when I started writing about my pregnancy”.

“Might be time to finish that story. To transform the energy?”

“I think you are right”, I say.

And here we are.

Who knows what will happen with my pain. But what I do know, is that;

“Owning our story and forgiving ourselves through the process is the bravest thing we can do.” Brene Brown.

 

So, my precious body. I am so sorry that I was mean to you and spoke harshly about you because you didn’t meet my expectations.

I am sorry for hating on you. I am sorry for not listening to you. I am sorry that you tried to talk to me and I didn’t listen.

I am sorry that you had to endure what you did and then were ignored. For all those times when you wanted a relationship with me and I never thought you deserved it. That you weren’t good enough. That you didn’t act like I wanted you to.

I am sorry. And I ask you to forgive me. And I invite you to pass this pain now. I hear you sweet one. I hear you.

I love you and I am sorry.

Forever yours. Jen. xxx

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My guess is that this wont be the last time I apologise to you.

In a culture that bread suck it up and get on with it, I know there are so many times I ignored you. Left you completely unloved and depleted. And for that I am sorry too. I promise that I will continue to do the best I can to take care of you. Nurture you. Love you unconditionally. It is of course a work in practice.

And I know that you are still learning to trust me, after I have neglected you so much along the way. I’m going to put in the effort to restore the trust. Gently. Ever so gently.

Not wanting to race head long into making changes. That is old way.

New way. To be with you. Not challenge you. But be kind to you.

Dearest body, I love you and I am sorry. How can I make it up to you?

“Just be kind…that is all”, says my body.

“Ok”.

And the journey continues….

 

2 comments on “The Begining of the Break: Part 1.”

The Begining of the Break: Part 1.

Adele’s touching speech at the Grammys yesterday, hit my heart. My life space.

She spoke of losing herself after she had children. Of how tough it was to go through that. And that her most recent album was a way to recover herself. To transform.

So me. I was touched. And I wanted to share my break.

She going to get all out there with this one.

She going to hit the topic that, when felt deeply, well, it can sting. In a lot of ways.

The whole reason that this website exists is because I had children.

The whole reason I do what I do now is because I had children.

The reason I have some of the most soul connected friends I have, is because I had children.

But having children was so suck arse for me in the early days!

Having children absolutely sucked arse for me in the beginning. It bit so hard. So hard  that I was sure I was breaking.

And on reflection, I think I did.

I did break.

Those of you who know my story, know that I was dropped into the new would of parenting at like full speed. A

In Feb 2005 I was pregnant. In March 2005, I was not.

In April 2005 I was pregnant again.

Within 3 months I rode the upward journey on the rollercoaster of elation to be pregnant with a baby. A little baby that my partner and I had created all by ourselves, somehow.

We rode the fast decent on the rollercoaster when we learned that our little baby didn’t actually have a heart beat.

“It’s totally common” they said. “1 in 4 pregnancies end like this”. “At least you can fall pregnant”, I was told.

Well fuck. Yes, but I lost our little baby!

6 weeks later, those same symptoms I had experienced the first time came back. Could I be pregnant already?

Yes.

And up goes the rollercoaster.

I decide that I would leave my job that I had to travel over 2 and half hours each day in the car to get to and from. A tough decision. But I wanted a healthy baby, and I could start again after the baby.

6 weeks later, a visit to the loo left me in fragments again. Blood. So much blood. Blood you just do not want to see when you are pregnant.

Fuck.

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And the rollercoaster heads south again and I just wanted the fuck off it. This is not fun.

I call the doctor and say I am not coming in for my scan, “I’ve lost another baby, I sob”!

Gently, the receptionist reassures me and we venture in.

Rollercoaster off the rails.

I don’t want to look at that fucking screen again and see no heart beat. I’d rather not thank you very much.

Again, gently lead, I lay down. Not breathing. Not looking. Not really there.

The gel. The scan.The wooshy sounds.

I still can’t breathe.

And then I hear it.

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. A whoosh that I knew was a little heart.

In inhale deeply and turned my head to see a little thing on the screen and a little flicker happening inside it.

“It’s alive?” I say through the tears?

“Yes, you have a baby in there for sure”.

And the tears fell. The relief. The rollercoaster back on the rails and slowly moving forward, ever so slowly.

Dr B keeps exploring the space where the baby lives.

Silent.

Intrigued.

I could feel something else was there.

I looked intently with him.

“There is something else I can see in your uterus with the baby. I’ll need to send you off for a more accurate scan”.

What do you mean something else? What the fuck do you mean?

Not another baby?

Then what the fuck?

And off we go for the next scan.

At this point, I am so out of the rollercoaster. Off it. No more play thanks! Fuck it. I am not feeling any more of this shit.

And numb.

The scan revealed that I had this thing called a sub-chorionic-heamatoma. This is what it looks like.

Basically, I had a bruise in my uterus.

A bruise that would grow as the uterus stretched and could in fact rupture and if it did, would take the baby with it.

Are you fucking kidding me?

Right.

Ok.

So, I did what I always had done. I just got on with life…all the while stressing so big that I was going to lose  my baby.

Every time I went to the toilet there was blood. Lots of blood. A thing that as a pregnant women just doesn’t make sense to the brain. It sees danger. It sees bad shit. It sees, something is going to go wrong here.

And I pushed the fear, the terror, the sadness aside and I got on with it.

My partner and I were planning a wedding, building a house. I had to get on with it.

And get on with it I did…and it isn’t until later, the truth of the experience bubbled up…and when it did….I was sure I was breaking…..

[see you next week for part 2]