Lessons from Labor

So it’s Labor day. Here are my lessons from LABOR that can be applied to birthing anything:

1. Sometimes it takes awhile.  A long while. With my first child, Kate, when it seemed that the time had finally come, I still ended up having to wait another 37 hours. During that time, I took naps, ate a bagel sandwich, threw up a bunch of times and had my feet washed a massaged by my husband. I even danced to crazy drum music to see if I could speed up the birth. Births happen when they happen. And sometimes what happens BEFORE they happen is actually really sweet and memorable (i.e. getting my feet washed and massaged) and necessary (throwing up to make space for the new). Which leads me to….

2. Don’t push before you know the time is NOW. As long as you can feel your body during a birth, you will know when to push. Pushing because you’re ready to be done with it all will only be exhausting. I’ve spent my life pushing too early. Interestingly, when in the throws of labor, I knew exactly when I should push to produce results. I trusted that my body knew what it was doing. I rarely do that when it comes to birthing an idea or a project. (Note to self: Remember the lessons your body teaches you).

3. Ask for help with clarity and strength when you need it. I spent a lot of time in labor with my daughter Kate sitting in a large tub. Again there were vast stretches of time when little was happening externally but a great deal internally. There came a moment in the wee hours (what we’d call ‘the transition) when suddenly I knew it was time. It was shocking and momentarily crazily painful. While it had been incredibly silent in the room up until that point, in that moment, I boomed out, “Get someone in here NOW.”  I don’t think I’ve ever asked for help so clearly again since.

4. Get the smell of chicken OUT of the room when you need to get the smell of chicken OUT of the room. After 30 hours of labor, my husband was hungry. My dear friend Elizabeth got him a plate of food. He sat next to the tub and ate it. I couldn’t stand the smell. At first I was going to be nice, but then that plate of food just needed to go. And it did. For someone kind of lousy at asking for what I need–in particular if it interferes with something someone else needs — I did a pretty good job August 23rd, 2003 at 1 in the morning.

5. Every little bit of whispered encouragement makes it possible to proceed. My dearest friend Elizabeth (http://sherri NULL.machighway NULL.com/~heidiros/2010/friend-friday/) sat at my feet for hours during my labor with my son Dylan. After every contraction she made a sound that echoed the pain or intensity I was going through. She was a warrior of love by my side. My husband stood at my side and held my hand and allowed me to squeeze the hell out of it during every contraction. He brushed his hands through my hair and told me he loved me 1,000 times. They were an amazing team.

6. Midwives are awesome. Andrew and Elizabeth were midwives for me in their support and love. They helped make the birth WORK.  Diane West (http://www NULL.westhomebirth NULL.com) was my real midwife who had all the wisdom and know-how and strength to usher both my children into the world. I trusted her entirely. With my daughter’s birth, she showed up in total physical pain (her neck was out) and she stayed with me through the whole process– offering words of encouragement and strength every few minutes. When Dylan was born in a hospital, she made sure I had the kind of birth I wanted in an environment not really conducive to such a birth. She fought for my well being and offered clear, sage advice at every turn.

7. Recognize it’s your birth. Take responsibility for it. Yes, ask for help. Yes, have your team. Yes, be clear about your needs.  But also, remember your own strength, power and capacity. Don’t blame others for what’s happening or not happening and don’t collapse in self-pity. Stay the course. Know you are powerful. Trust the process. And be kind in the midst of hell.

8. There’s a reason they call it Labor: It’s hard work. But if you’re listening and patient and willing, it produces the greatest beauty on the planet — PURE LOVE in the form of NEW LIFE. Any creative project that means ANYTHING to we who create (and that’s all of us) requires that  we gestate, face our fears, confront death and ultimately give everything to produce that which has never previously existed. And once we’ve given birth, we feel euphoric and see the world more steeped in love and unity than our everyday vision allows.

Big love to all. And happy laboring.

.