Surrender.

I took a hypnobirthing class in preparation for the birth of my third baby. Much of this hypnobirthing class was about surrendering. Surrendering to the uterus contracting. Surrendering to the pressure of baby descending into the pelvis. Surrendering to the unknowns, to what can’t be planned. 

I surrendered to a cesarean birth to return me to health, to ensure I stayed alive for my three children. After a long, difficult pregnancy full of fatigue, nausea, and hip pain, I lay in a hospital bed deprived of food and water while I waited for surgery. After the birth, I surrendered to care to the care of nurses…meals were ordered for me and food arrived, delivered on a tray. I was brought a cold wash cloth when the room felt too hot and nauseating. I was told “congratulations”, even though I felt like shit and I deserved no reverence. But still, I continued to surrender. I was helped out of bed, I needed a shoulder to lean on to stand. I called the nurse when Mark was running errands, “can you hold my baby while I shower?” I surrendered to the bed, to the slowness of my post surgery body. On the ride home from the hospital, my friend offered a meal train. I surrendered. People brought food and left it on my porch. My sister drove 40 minutes to drop off baby clothes on my porch, to patch the gaps together of the ways I was unprepared. I lay in bed for hours, and Mark brought meals to me. He brought me my phone charger and dessert and my laptop and chapstick and kept an ear out when I showered in case I yelled for help. I asked my other sister to get my kids out of the house for some fresh air - I surrendered to staying inside. All the things I couldn’t do. I let people care for me. My friend washed dishes in my sink. My mom washed our clothes. I wore pajamas to school drop off. I said “no” to attending things that felt too difficult to bring my aching body to.

The first 5 months were really hard. The sadness…the anxiety…the over stimulation…the pain…the desire to live in an alternative reality, where things were different. But through it I surrendered, not dominated. I chose to ride the wave. It sometimes took me under, but after I surrendered to its power, I made it back to the surface. It wasn’t always easy to ride it, but I did it. My power came from surrendering.

The waves are calmer now, and now I can reflect and be joyful and thankful for all the care I let myself receive.