(not my belly, by the way)
Last night, some friends of mine arraigned an evening where women (and their families) could come and have a safe place to talk and learn about pregnancy and birth. We went around and introduced ourselves, we shared our children’s name and ages, and if we had had a natural birth or C-section.
Every woman, I repeat: EVERY. WOMAN. Had had a C-section except those who had experienced some kind of deliberate intervention: either another woman, or a doctor, or they themselves were educated and prepared to then have a natural birth. This is Brazil—at least my part of Brazil. (Well, there was the one woman who planned a C-section, but the baby came too quick on its own…which is why private hospitals in our area of Brazil have a 98% rate of C-sections rather than 100%).
There were three professional doulas there, who were also nurses, who spoke to fears and lies and past trauma. One woman shared how her mother told her, “Don’t cry or scream while giving birth or the doctors will yell at you.” Because that is what happened to her mother. And so she scheduled a C-section to avoid it. One woman was told her baby was too big, at 39 weeks, and she had to get an immediate C-section. One was told the baby was in the wrong position, and had to get a C-section. One was told natural birth would hurt too much. One was told she was too skinny to have a natural birth. And so on. All lies told by the medical community and society who didn’t have the training and/or time and/or desire to deal with more difficult birth situations.
Some of the women had had wonderful experiences: natural and C-section. The doulas were good to explain that their goal for women was that in any situation, it would be a humanized birth. Where in the amazing, incredible, and most challenging experience of bringing life into the world, the woman is loved, respected, and cared for. That she is not lied to, misinformed, belittled or ignored. That in her most vulnerable moments in life, she is treated as a valuable human.
I was able to share how Lindsay introduced me to a great team of people who cheered me on for 15 hours, who reassured me my baby was safe and my body was doing what it was supposed to do: have a baby. That didn’t make the experience less painful, but it did make it sacred and valuable. And I came away from the experience with a new respect for my body. If I could give birth, I could do about anything ever.
It was beautiful to see these ladies coming together to share this love and experience and education for future mothers to be blessed with positive and humanized births. This is how movements are started and generations changed.
For me, there is another story. A story of a miscarriage. A story of my body failing me. A story of a new pregnancy, with new fears I never thought of the first time around. Questioning my body about things I just accepted before. The main thing: what if when it comes down to it, my body fails me again? It is a story of control, and where my illusion of previous control has been torn down.
And so I need to write a new story of trust and forgiveness. Trust that God still holds everything in His hands, and forgiveness to my body. I need to let go of what happened. My body is still really incredible, and is preparing itself for this baby. It (I) has all it (I) needs to succeed. I need to care for, love, and respect this body I have been given. I will not hold the past as a form of control or worry, but will give the same forgiveness and love I am freely given.
It might sound a bit weird to talk about my body as another entity, but that is the best way to describe how I feel, and the process I am going through. Lindsay is again walking with me through this journey, as we figure out doctors and birth plan and all things done differently in Brazil, and done differently after a miscarriage. I am grateful for the journey.
