I'm Proud to be a Ten Month Mama
-by LLM. The following was written
in February, 2000. It is excerpted from the BirthLove
website www.birthlove.com, and also appeared in
Midwifery Today's The Birthkit, Spring 2000.
Earlier this evening my mother was holding my
brand-new son, my seventh child- his bottom rested
on her knees as she cradled his head in her hands.
He was making little sounds as she sung sweetly
to him; a song that I remember from my own tiny-girlhood.
I loved watching them together- I felt connected
with my mother, and reconnected with my own infancy.
I exclaimed about his size at birth. "12lb
6oz! He was twice the baby I was, wasn't he?"
"Yes- you were only 6lb 8oz."
He was twice as big, but incredibly we were both
born at ten months gestation. Thank goodness for
me that I was born in a time when drug inductions
were very rare- can you imagine what would have
happened if I had been induced at 40 weeks? I
would have been a lot smaller, and less able to
survive in my new world. Thank goodness for my
son that I am finally out of the induction hysteria
that so fuels modern obstetrics: he was born safe,
far away from the drugs, cesareans and amniotomies
that so commonly impel women's births- that so
dangerously compelled my own first five births.
With my sixth child, I just couldn't go back to
the hospital to give birth again. A quiet, decisive
force was in me- helping me feel certain that
I could finally trust my body to care for my baby
just fine. (My midwife, Gloria Lemay, was monumental
in this.) When my time came, at forty-four weeks
pregnant, I gave birth easily and perfectly- with
no drugs, needles, hooks, or knives. I couldn't
believe it- I even said- "is that IT?"
I simply pushed my baby out and went to bed. How
beautiful it was to have finally give birth as
a woman, and in my own power.
And now I finally love birth!- I finally love
how my body gives birth! Now I can revel in the
sensations of late pregnancy. I can feel the intense
Braxton Hicks contractions and know that they
are easing my body gently, slowly, gradually into
an easy, obvious birth. I used to think these
sensations were contractions that were too inept
to go anywhere at all- signs of a broken labor,
and an obvious need for an induction jumpstart.
I used to feel embarrassed by being so noticeably
big for so long. But now I love being ripe and
pregnant- I look at the moon when I am walking
late at night and feel the same as she is; we
are both round, and mysterious, and shining with
the reflected lights of our suns. (My sons! I
have six boys!)
I'm proud to be a ten month mama! I love being
a walking spectacle of reproductive grandiosity.
I love it when people come up to me and say "so
when are you due?"- because now I don't answer
with a fearful "I'm overdue"- and due
to be induced. Now I tell them that "due"
is an absurd concept: babies are due the day they
are born, and not before. ("Best before"
dates are for milk cartons, not women!)
I love being a ten month mama- I get so much
time to meet my babies, and let them tell me who
they are. They even tell me how they would like
to be born. My seventh child told me specifically
that he wanted only his daddy with him in his
birth (though I could have sworn he also told
me that he was a she)- and we three had a marvelous,
special, intimate time. My sixth told me that
I was safe with my midwife; and that with her
at my side, I could give the birth that would
finally heal me from all my past hurts caused
by all of us- doctors, nurses, me- "doing
the due".
It is quite natural to be a ten month mama. There
used to be so many more of us- I talk to older
women, and they frequently tell me of their friends,
or sisters, or even themselves going long past
nine months pregnant. (And they are all appalled
that today's women are being induced with so little
provocation.) There is a grand tradition of ten
month mamas: it truly seems that if long gestations
were so dangerous, then so many women would simply
not be having them; we would all be giving birth
like clockwork at forty weeks gestation. Natural
selection has decided that many women will have
long pregnancies- in the same way that evolution
has shaped our pelvises and vaginas so perfectly
for birthing. And I trust in evolution- our birthing
today is the cream of the evolutionary crop.
Due dates mean nothing to nature. Individual
fruits will ripen at their own speed; children
will grow in their own time. Manipulating women's
bodies in birth is the same thing as destroying
an ancient forest, or hunting a species to extinction-
inducing birth is a symbol of humanity's petty
desire to play God. But we not God- we are earth.
We often forget that we are parts of nature- we
are flowers, we are birds, we are floating bits
of plankton in the sea- there is no difference
between us; we are all sums of the awesome force
that fuels the earth. Our births are sacraments
of this force that is "nature"- and
by letting the sacrament of birth remain in tune
with the force that creates it, we honor the earth;
we pay homage to the beautiful spirit that propels
it, and fills it.
As women regain their faith in birth, inductions-
including "natural inductions" (a genuine
oxymoron if I ever heard one)- will once again
become rarities. The day is coming when birth
will once again be observed with gentle reverence,
and a genuine sitting on one's hands- instead
of being monitored and controlled so perversely.
Soon more women will be proud to be ten month
mamas- or eleven month mamas- or even nine month
mamas, if that's what is best for their babies.
What's best for the babies- nature vehemently
wants what's best for her babies. And I will put
my trust in nature- because she also wants only
what's best for me.
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