I really felt drawn to share in this moment. Some of you will understand and some of you might not, but that is okay.
I just got my period. A couple of hours ago. For the first time in three years. I feel overwhelmingly sad and sweet and gentle and womanly about it.
This is the very last time I ever get to get my period back for the first time. My womb, that has held five babies in it, is going to be forever empty.
It brought me into my womanhood at the tender age of twelve, when I was walking home from school on a spring afternoon. I felt a small trickle, and it quickly turned into a flood. I was so excited and spent many a day just waiting to change my pad! I was laid low by fierce cramps at times, and even stayed home from school when my mom would let me.
I carried my first daughter in my womb for almost ten months. It didn't ever fail me, even when my birth attendants did. It was my uterus that saved the day, in spite of bright lights and medications and people who didn't believe in me.
And it didn't fail to hold my husbands seed (that is sperm ladies *I am waxing poetic here*)when it realized that I needed my second daughter in my life, long before I did. It held her in tightly and kept her safe while I was scared and all alone. But I found a home in my home and pushed her out, so sweetly, and learned about the fetal ejection reflex and posterior presentation.
And again, it was there for me with my third daughter. It held her in safe and sound when I was puking my guts out. It got her out when I felt I couldn't. Because it knew the way. It was very well used by her.
And I bled after four months with each child. No matter how many I was nursing.
But then I let out three eggs. And each became a child. And then three became two, and they decided to stay with me. And my uterus protected them. And stretched with them. And housed my placenta's that nourished them.
And then it let me have my sweet babies. After fourty weeks. And I didn't bleed at all.
And now, TWO years later, I haven't bled for three years. Until today. My husband holds me and let's me cry that I can't have anymore babies. We made the choice together not to. I get too sick. I understand it. But it is so bittersweet to know that I will bleed every month and carry no more babies in my belly. It is really really sad and....quiet.
I am a mother. I am a doula. I am a (almost) midwife. And this is a new journey for me. Please think of me as I go into a place in my life where I don't have a tiny one.
I really wish I had my red tent tonight.
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This is one of the best things about a woman's flow that I have ever read.
ReplyDeleteI hear your sadness.
ReplyDeleteCelebrate those babies - the ones from your uterus and the ones yet to come that you will help welcome into this world! :)
Your body has certainly known the very best of what it can offer.
Beautiful! I was in your ddc at mothering. I'm anxiously waiting for my period to arrive.
ReplyDeleteThis is really special and beautiful.
ReplyDeleteSarah -
ReplyDeleteI don't know if you remember me or not, but almost 8 years ago, you were there with me rubbing my back and feet and arms as I welcomed my first child into the world as a single mama. Back then my last name was Korte and my son is Ethan. You were nursing your third daughter at the time and left the birthing room to attend to her needs, but you were so awesome while you were there that I didn't really think about the times you had to leave. Anyway, I found your blog via FB via Karen H-B (who was my Bradley teacher). I have since remarried and carried four more precious babies (two of which we had to say goodbye to before we ever got to say hello). I have had two homebirths and they were wonderful even though my one daughter was stillborn in my second homebirth. She had a true knot in her cord. I think of you often, especially every July as we celebrate Ethan's bday. He'll be 8 on the 8th! As I remember my first birth and the woman I became that day, I know you had a big part in making it what it was. While I did not end up birthing drug-free, your influence helped me to read and educate myself more so that my next three birth would be drug-free. I wish you well and mourn with you the loss of your childbearing years. I haven't quite come to that point yet, but when I carried my last baby, I tried to convince myself it might be the last. Suffice it to say, I didn't do a very good job. I hold my now 5 month old in my arms and can't imagine he might be the last. Blessings!
Sarah, this is absolutely lovely and bittersweet and heart wrenching all at the same time. You have a wonderful way with words.
ReplyDeleteOne of the sweetest, most wonderful things I've read. We are currently TTC #3 and what DH insists must be the last. I am sad just thinking about it. I understand.
ReplyDelete