A Pregnant Pause.

Recently I was reading Eros Ascending: The Life-Transforming Power of Sacred Sexuality, by John Maxwell Taylor.  In it I was reminded of the differences in men and women-or on a general scale, ANY opposites for that matter.  The yin and yang is a fundamental ancient Chinese philosophy concept of contrasting forces actually being complementary. It’s two different sides of the same coin. The circle around them is there to represent they are separate but together they are whole. The yin & yang symbol is a swirl of black and a swirl of white.  White (Yang) and black (Yin). Yin=the Feminine aspects: Water, Earth, Moon, Nighttime, Passivity, Reflection, Receptivity, Intuitiveness. Yang=the Masculine aspects: Fire & Wood, Daytime, Creation, Hunter, Active, Logical, Dominance in Various Forms.

The small black circle within the white Yang indicates that Yin is contained within Yang. The white circle within the black Yin indicates that Yang is contained within Yin. The curves along the line between Yin and Yang indicate the continuous merging of the two.  This is a vast concept and can be studied at length, which I won’t go into here, but the main thing is that it’s a lofty example that very little in life is “either/or”.  It’s the concept of all things have two facets, Yin and Yang, and that Yin and Yang are ultimately interdependent.

​I’ve been lucky enough to have the “yin and yang” of experiencing this whole pregnancy and birth chapter both ways.  On one side of the coin, I had my fist 4 kids in my 20’s.  It was ridiculously physically a piece of cake- SO easy to be pregnant with and deliver those 4 kids. I was basically doing jazzercise on the way to the hospital. My first baby came boom-in 4 hours, start to finish, and I wore my old jeans home from the hospital- seriously.  The flip side of the coin in my 20’s was that I had to get creative and survive this gig.  I was so young and meant well at the time, but I nearly went crazy thinking I could (and should) do it all.  For a short while I had 3 kids under 3. Then got knocked up with a 4th baby.  Soon I had 4 babies in 4.5 years.  I had very little outside help and untreated postpartum depression.  Through a faked smile, I foraged through many of my days in emotional and mental agony, all the while fearing I might lose my mind.
 
Now in my late thirties/early forties, the first side of the coin has been the challenging part for me: physically it’s been so difficult to be pregnant.  I have gained the most weight, I have had more aches and pains than a senior citizen in a nursing home.  I still technically work out with my trainer 4 days a week, but it’s more of something that can be found on the public access channel, like a “Sit and Be Fit” or “Silver Sneakers” class than it is an actual “workout.” Shit, next thing you know I’ll want someone to take me to Denny’s for a Grand Slam Breakfast. I take a napevery afternoon, for pete’s sake. I’m basically channeling my grandma. Next thing you know I’m going to be watching old reruns of “Lawrence Welk” and drinking Manhattans…. At noon.
 
But on the flip side of the coin, I’ve relinquished the futile fight and realized I can’t do it all. Duh. And I don’t want to do it all.  I happily say yes to medication.  I have become a master delegator, something I never would have done in my 20’s.  Back then, my ego drove me to try to prove to myself and others that I could do it all, be everything to everyone, which, not surprisingly, crashed and burned.  In my late thirties, it hasn’t been difficult by any means to choose to let that Titanic set sail and head straight for the iceberg, without me on it.  I do my best to conserve my physical and mental energy, and I work on only giving my emotional energy to people and things that don’t drain me.
 
I’ve been fortunate enough to have gained some little lessons from having experienced pregnancy and motherhood through both the perspective of young mom in my 20’s and also a more “seasoned” mom in my late 30’s/early 40’s.  Below are a few of them.
 
Compassion. (Yin.) I fully get this motherhood thing.  Not in the sense that I’m some parenting or pregnancy expert, but I get the tough spots. When I see people post things like “two kids under two” or “#irishtwins” it’s like, yep.  Been there…. Several times over, in fact.
I read about this African Zulu greeting a number of years ago called “Sawubona.”  It has a long oral history and it means far more that our traditional "hi, hello, or nice to meet you." 
Sawubona means "I see you."  Not in the visual way, but in an intangible way- which is arguably far more piercing and commanding.  It’s more like, “I share your humanity.  I respect you as a person and honor all that you’ve been through.”  In the African village context, where everyone knows one another, it's an exceedingly powerful representation of understanding.
 
So in the context of pregnancy and motherhood, what Sawubona means to me is the ability to ditch the wasted time on useless competitive bitching and arguing about who is breastfeeding and who isn’t, who is going back to work and who is staying home, and various other ridiculous forms of a fruitless “Whose Ovaries are Bigger” contest.  (PS In case you missed it: The “Whose Ovaries are Bigger” contest is really just a grand display of insecurities run rampant).  No.  Sawubona is like an eyeball to eyeball, “I feel you. I get you.” Maybe our circumstances are not identical- maybe we have different amounts of kids, maybe our definition of “busy” or “tired” differs.  But nonetheless, it’s mutual support, a kind of semper fi, “no mom left behind” mentality.  Solidarity.

Self-Care: Spiritual.  (Yin.) “Spirituality” can be defined as anything really, that connects one back to oneself and away from outside draining forces. It could be in the form of prayer, meditation, hiking, yoga, taking a long bath, art, writing, or whatever recharges one’s batteries.  This stuff always seems to be last on the priority list and then we (I) sit around and wonder why all of a sudden my emotional gas tank is empty and I’m generally just pissy.  It’s about making the time for the things that fill us up before we run out of gas.  Hard to do, but so necessary.   
 
Self-Care: Physical.   (Yang.) I distinctly remember a week after my second child was born, I went off to the mall, convinced I needed to squeeze myself into a pair of new pants, and being extremely frustrated that I was a mere ONE size over what I was in my pre-pregnancy state. Now that sounds preposterous to me, and I’m thankful I have FAR more realistic expectations at this point.  However, I can’t honestly relate to the concept of “letting oneself go” after pregnancies:  Never losing the baby weight, never making any effort whatsoever with one’s appearance. OK, we all have off days, no big deal. But even when I had newborn babies and had been up all night breastfeeding, I didn’t let a day go by where I didn’t pay a visit to the shower at some point and throw on some lip gloss and mascara at the very, very least.  When I had 4 young kids and no babysitter, I’d trek over to my friend’s house every 6 weeks with my gang of children, looking like the Pied Piper.  My kids would play with hers for 2 hours while she touched up my roots and balyage highlights. If it’s a priority, we make the time for it and we figure out how to make it work, even if we have to get creative.  But what I’ve learned is it’s not a race to get one’s body back.  Way too often I got this “I cannot be fat for ONE more day” mentality as I took on this Rocky Balboa madwoman warrior, borderline demon-possessed craziness and didn’t allow my body the proper opportunity to rest and heal.  I have to fight the Rocky Balboa in me, but I realize now it takes time.  That’s ok.  I miss out on so many sweet moments when I rush into “I MUST get my body back ASAP” mode.
 
Thankfully I personally am married to a man who could seriously care less if I haven’t shaved my legs in a month or hadn’t even brushed my teeth that day- for real.  So yes, I try to take care of myself and be presentable for my husband-but it’s really something I do primarily for my own self.  When I look gross, I feel gross, and I don’t think that it’s rocket science to put it all together…. When I look bad as a result of making zero effort, I feel shitty.  And I’m not saying rush off to the plastic surgeon, I’m saying basic hygiene is common courtesy for both partners. You don’t have to be freshly exfoliated and waxed 24/7, but it takes very little energy and effort to at the very least, maintain basic hygiene practices.  No one wants to climb into bed at night with someone who hasn’t showered today and whose breath smells like a dragon who just ate a basket of garlic fries at the Mariner’s game. 
 
And PS, my kids don’t want a mom who routinely runs around in what I call my Unabomber outfit: a hoodie, baseball cap and UGG slippers.  I’m just saying, swipe on some lipstick and a presentable piece of clothing- not a Dolce & Gabbana ball gown and Manolo Blahnik stilettos, ok?  It’s way too easy to look way more dressed up than we really are these days…..Hell, I’m saying even a simple, monochromatic granimals-type outfit from the Units Store one shopped at routinely in the 80’s works great if one takes 17 seconds to throw on some jewelry and a cute pair of boots. (And mad props to you if your #UnitsWear still fits.) And I personally have nothing against yoga pants- they’re just a part of life for many of us at some point in the day, right?…. As long as it’s not 4 o’clock in the afternoon and one is still sitting in one’s unwashed yoga tights from this morning at 6 AM’s workout. With love and gentleness, I’ll just say straight up that neither partner will be interested in connecting in the Biblical sense if one runs around all day unshowered in one’s sweat, while simultaneously contracting a yeast infection. You’re picking up what I’m throwing down, right? Respect.
 
It Takes a Village. (Yin=Receptivity. Yang=The Action of Saying Yes!) Say “YES” to offers of help.  Just say yes.  Generally, us females are terrible at this.  Society and our ego tells us we should be able to do it all ourselves, at least in this country. Whether you’re paying for it or receiving it for free from generous friends.  Yes, it’s humbling and it requires a level of vulnerability.  Even if it’s awkward, even if it’s way out of character, just say yes.  And don’t analyze it or beat yourself up.  Just practice a knee jerk response and say “yes!”  The benefits for me have been astounding.  Not only have I personally been able to get enough rest, have a clean (enough) house and meals on the table, but my kids have benefitted so richly.  They have learned that I’m not Superwoman and if I’m going to kill myself having a magazine-perfect house at all times, I’ll miss out on their lives- on just hanging out and doing life with them.  They aren’t afraid to talk to adults.  They’re fairly independent for their age. They have been exposed to all kinds of different people and viewpoints, and in our home we allow them to process those viewpoints in a safe environment.  And most importantly, because I’m not physically and emotionally spent all the time, I can be present with them.  I have the energy to be there for them, to show up when I’m needed.  That’s priceless to me.
 
Marriage Comes First.  (Yin and Yang in harmony.) So maybe it’s because I’m in mid-life, maybe it’s because folks were mismatched from the start, maybe there’s been abuse, maybe it’s because people just grew apart, or someone breaks their vows and the partnership can’t recover.  I truly have no idea, and I can’t speak to it.  But the fact remains that I’m at that age where I have friends who are now divorcees and it’s heartbreaking to watch how tough that is on everyone involved. I’m not trying to slap a pity-Band-Aid on a fracture, ok?  I’m just saying for those of us who are lucky enough to be in a relationship where both partners are willing and in a space where they are able to grow together, then it’s my opinion that we’ve been given a gift worthy of be maintained just as if it’s a beautiful garden.
 
Even when Andrew and I had 4 babies in 4.5 years with neither outside help, nor endless amounts of money, we still made it a priority to have weekly date nights.  Here’s what that looked like for us at that time: I’d set the dining room table, pick up take out from our favorite Italian joint and light candles.  I’d feed the kids early and Andrew would put them to bed.  Then we’d literally have date night in our dining room, and it gave us a chance to connect and recharge.  Again, I’ll repeat: this stuff has to become a priority because the time does not magically appear. It must be created and valued and treated as an appointment, or a flight to a vacation you wouldn’t dream of missing.
 
Secondly on marriage, without going into too many details, I’ll just say this:  I’m thankful to not have struggled in this area, but what I do know is in my experience at least, being a wife who is active in the bedroom can do nothing but good for a marriage, including initiating and trying new things. I’m not going to spell it out but you get it… suffice it to say it’s been my experience that one’s spouse will be thrilled with the confidence that develops in you as the result of investing in a loving, trusting, and respectful relationship.  You get the idea. And definitely don’t underestimate the power of good lingerie, even if it’s only actually on your body for 2.5 seconds.  Again, this is really for me as much as it is for him-it has helped me countless times when I’m feeling super low-energy to, ahem, get into the spirit of things.  It’s like putting on your favorite players’ football jersey before heading off to the game.  You dress the part, then you’re mentally prepared for the activity.  You can read between the lines. ;)
 
One last thing I’ll share.  It’s helped us to be impressed continually with each other and be each other’s biggest encouragers.  I’ve found for me, what I focus on is what I see.  So, if I focus on little dumb things that bug me or if I’m negative about my spouse, that negativity tends to feed on itself.  However, if I focus on the many positive aspects of my spouse, the positivity is contagious and it actually multiplies.  I try to verbalize it and communicate it as much as I can. I know men generally aren’t as gushy as us chicks can tend to be, but I do know my spouse knows and appreciates that I believe in him deeply.  In the absolute core of my being, I honestly don’t think there is anything that man can’t do.  I admire him beyond measure and above all, I love doing life with him.  I still get excited when he walks through the door at night.  I’m super pumped for our future adventures together and the next chapter of our love story.
 
So now it’s almost time for the shift into the next phase.  Most of you know the highlights of my story- we thought we were done having kids after my 4th child was born.  But we had a surprise baby 7 years later, and although I was emotionally overwhelmed at the time and in tears for the first few months of that pregnancy, I was at a point in my life where my thick-headed self must have finally, at age 37, been ready for this ego-breaking lesson:  That my life was not my own, that I’m one small catalyst or grain of sand on a vast, endless beach for generations to come.  As long as global warming doesn’t fry us all.  Just kidding.  But in all seriousness through that surprise baby, I’ve learned the joy and the beauty that comes from the paradox of what I call “embracing the releasing.”
 
I reflect now and can clearly see how I’ve been lucky AND I’ve needed both the yin and the yang of these experiences to bring me to this whole experience of my childbearing years. I’m standing at the precipice of ending the physical life giving years, but just beginning the chapter of my life of the life-giving years in other forms.I’ve finally realized that women get to make this transition and open doors to new opportunities in our lives, pouring ourselves into new hobbies, fresh callings, experiencing different ways of breathing newfangled life into people, places and things.  This concept has helped me in the past year to not be (quite so) afraid of aging. When you change the view in a kaleidoscope, every turn of the wrist sifts the colors and shapes and brings a new beauty. I was destined to walk through these biological life-giving years to add some souls to the universe who were meant to be here, and also to teach me some invaluable lessons, about love, life, hard work, letting go. In that way, having babies in these 2 different decades I’ve had the yin inside the yang and also the yang inside the yin.  But it’s time to bravely turn the wrist and reveal a new picture, perhaps different, but just as lovely.
 
…And hopefully I’ll get a grandbaby or two out of all this effort someday…  ;)