Reflecting on my experiences of birth I have deep sadness, as well as confusion and shame for having this feeling. The births of my children brought me great joy and love on one hand, and on the other a deep sense that the experiences were stolen from me, and my children, by an overlording industry and culture that made all of the big decisions for me, as if I wasn’t even there. Part of the shame is that I allowed this. I was and am very strong, healthy, and capable, and yet I was hypnotized into giving my agency to people in white coats. They followed their protocols, humiliated me, and ended their shifts on time. I allowed procedures I would never have consented to had I understood; or had I known in my bones what was possible. I walked away from both of my births feeling exhilarated, deeply in love, and yet achingly hollow.
My sense is that a rite of passage is best held and midwifed through lineage and generations of experience. Birth is a time to be surrounded by women who know and love the woman in labor; women who have navigated the passage together through generations; singing, praying, massaging, holding, nurturing, anticipating what’s needed moment-to-moment and responding knowledgeably. In this exquisite moment, the birthing mother is opening a portal for new life to enter this realm, and she herself is passing through a portal of transformation. This ordinary and extraordinary experience can empower or shatter a woman;her relationship with her body, her ability to embrace motherhood, and her confidence. This is a sacred moment to be held with love, wonder, reverence, and the most tender and attentive care.
Thank goodness for science, caring professionals, and medical miracles, but their role is in the background, to be called upon when the wise women and midwives deem it necessary. I’m also not against loving male partners being present at birth. However, they cannot offer what women kin and women devoted to women’s physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual becoming can bring.
—Anonymous reflection from a woman in our Wisdom Circle
From Our Collective Journal Pages is an ongoing series of vignettes that offer a window into tender accounts that may never be spoken about in typical daily conversations. This content is being offered to invite our readers to join us in collective introspection and compassionate witnessing. Where will we steer our efforts when we truly own our own stories and bear intimate witness to the plight of our sisters?