Essays and Writings
Birth(day) Plans
I’m not a big believer in destiny. I don’t believe our paths are pre-determined; I believe it’s the choices and decisions we make that become the paths upon which we trod. But even if the paths that we choose are entirely ours, the forks in the road, the twists and turns around corners, and the hills and valleys placed in our way are not entirely in our control. We can choose the path that appears less steep, only to find an unexpected mountain around the corner. It’s what we do with those mountains in our way that makes us who we are.
Mom had her plan. She’d made her decisions and she knew what she wanted. Her path was steep, but she knew where she was going. She was going to have a VBAC.
As the day wore on, she fixed her deep brown eyes in mindful concentration with each contraction. Her body rocked quietly; her thoughts focused inward. Contraction by contraction and step by step, Mom walked her path. Mom followed her plan.
But then her plan started to unravel. All the preparation and effort failed her as her path twisted and torqued violently. Suddenly, Mom was faced with unexpected choices and unwelcome decisions. All of them, too much a reminder of her previous experience. But, this time, what had previously been cruelly and unkindly taken away from her — her ability to make choices — lay solidly in her hands. Now those hands ached and trembled with uncertainty and confusion. Her steep path suddenly became unmarked and obscured.
She could have crumpled. She could have relinquished her choices, absolving herself of responsiblity. It certainly would have been easier.
Instead, she relinquished her pain. She let go of the hurt and fear and confusion and absolved herself of blame. She faced the unexpected choices anew, refusing to believe the past was a glimpse of the inevitable in front of her. This was not the same birth. She was not the same Mom. She made a choice, a new plan, one that looked frighteningly like the plan thrust upon her years ago. And this — this — showed her mettle and grace, more than anything else. Mom took a deep breath, and stepped on. Her choice: to trust, to hope, and to believe in herself.
Hours later, her path came to a restful pause. She’d let go. And then, she reached down and held on — to her new daughter coming in to the world.
That restful pause? Was at the top. It’s what we do with the mountains in our way that makes us who we are.