During childbirth, there’s a phase called transition. You move from riding contractions to the urge to push. Often, this is a time when you feel utterly convinced that you can’t do this any more. That your body wasn’t designed for this degree of effort.
I remember the sips of cold orange squash my husband gave me through a straw as I hit the wall during my own transition in labour just over 12 years ago. The sweet, icy energy and the tenderness of a husband in waiting. I stepped out of the birthing pool and into the bathroom of the delivery suite. From there my body took over. Determination, resurgence of physical strength, intense focus.
And then she was here. The moment of tearful announcement from my husband:
“it’s a little girl”
Holding her, wrapped in a towel, eyes dark as ink. Our new life begun.
I find myself in another ‘liminal’ space now that the little bundle has begun her life as a high school student. On the boundary between being needed and being in the way. Between parent and confidante. Sometimes the ‘cool mum’ who her friends like to be around, sometimes completely out of touch.
It’s definitely been unsettling, but most days it’s kind of fun. Our new life begins.