Telling Our Birth Stories
Picture this: you are sitting around with some mom friends, in a playgroup, or in a much needed coffee time, or in a very rare dinner out. You’re gathered together, with your trusted friends, and all in the same stage of life: having babies and taking care of children.
I bet that at some point the conversation will pivot toward swapping birthing stories–the good, the bad and the ugly. And because you’re among those you trust, the stories can be unrestrained, descriptive, emotional.
Why do we tell each other our birth stories?
Jill Koziol, Liz Tenety and Diana Spalding in their book, Becoming Mama, say this:
Birth is arguably the most intense experience we have in our lifetime. To bring life into the world through our bodies is to simultaneously access our deepest strengths and most raw vulnerabilities. After we have done this warrior work, we are immediately thrust into motherhood. We wrap ourselves around our babies, giving and nourishing and pouring our love into them, with little opportunity to process the torrent of emotions and sensations of the birth we just went through.
How can we not process this? And with whom better to process, than with our friends? I mean, our husbands/partners can try to be sympathetic (bless their hearts,) but really, only another mom can fully understand what you’ve been through. And you can empathize with her.
In Becoming Mama, the authors say:
Our ancestors gathered together to tell their stories, and in doing so found the peace and comfort that comes from shared experiences….Mamas, tell your stories. Linger in the details, rejoice over your triumphs, cry over the disappointments, and revel in your magic. Your birth story tells how your baby came into being and how you became a mother.
In my own childbearing years, I was unaware the importance of these story swappings; I didn’t know that I needed it. Looking back, telling my story for all of my births gave me a place to make sense of them, to receive empathy and compassion and to marvel at how my body was created to complete such a Herculean task.
These are the things we can give to each other when we listen to each other’s stories.
If telling your own story is not something you have had an opportunity to do, the Becoming Mama authors suggest this:
Write it down: Record the times and sequence of events, people who were there, and any details you remember. It seems fresh now, but as the years pass, you may forget some of the specifics. You may find yourself coming back to this story as you celebrate your child’s birthdays..
Reflect on and record the answers in the following questions. Jot down what comes to your mind first and know that youcan come back and add more at any time:
Describe a moment (or several) that made you feel proud.
2. Is there an aspect of your birth for which you feel gratitude?
3. What surprised you?
4. What questions linger? Was there anything that you did not understand?
5. What was it lokke to see your baby for the first time?
6. Were there parts of your birth that felt scary?
7. Did anyone stand out to yuo as being particularly supportive and helpful? Would it feel good to let them know?
8. Was there an element of your birth that makes you uncomfortable to reflect on?
9. Do you feel at peace with your birth? If not, can you tell what you need to get there?
When telling your story, it is very important that you feel validated, safe and supported. Not everyone is cut out to listen to your narrative. They may mean well, but may not have the gifting or inclination to be a safe repository.
It would be ideal to have those who can listen with empathy, are not uncomfortable with negative experiences or emotions and listen with compassionate non judgment.
If there is no one in your current world who matches that description, a therapist, counselor or psychologist can be your listener.
Googling the words ’postpartum mental health’ or ‘postpartum counseling’ should help you find such folks in your area.
Blessings to you mama, as you rehearse one of the strongest moments in your life! You did it!
