13

13 years ago i was in labor.  that was a long time ago- a day of transformation and beginnings. a moment when someone arrives- and when a part of my body began traversing the earth on it's own.  forever connected- forever spent understanding that connection- navigating self and other- moving way, returning - learning independence and dependance, relationship.  that day of labor might have been the easiest part of these years- but even that wasn't easy. 

by the end of my pregnancy, i was on bed rest, she was too small they thought, she needed to come out they said, so she did. one month early.  zoe rode right side up for the eight months she lived in me- showing both her dislike for being upside-down and her strong will.  about this time 13 years ago, i'd had some chinese voodoo turning procedure and zoe had been "successfully inverted" - her head was down- she was "ready".

but was she? (i will always wonder).


was i?

i was induced and along with it came all the stressful labor things that tend to happen, especially to medical people and especially to those who have been given concerning beginnings like- "IUGR", and when things are being forced when nature isn't ready.  poor zoe, we didn't start well, listening to you.

you see what you look for and you look for what you know. things were "known", so things were over looked for, and found.  she had all variations of "decels"on the monitoring strip, so there was a scalp electrode screwed into her head, i had an amnio infusion to be sure the cord wasn't smooshed. the pitocin was cranked up. oh zoe, we disturbed you.  we moved you around, and poked you, and pushed you- was this where it started? have the last 13 years been spent defending a bothered sensory system? i will always wonder what your life would be like if we'd left you alone. 

and finally at 6 pm on september 11th, zoe shot out into the world, surprising everyone with her non-IUGR birthweight, her preemie ears, her fuzzy black hair, and tiny calamari tentacle hands. my beautiful zoe- life, fullness- in a little 5 pound bundle.

the birthing of our children is in stages- the labor continues for decades.  the pain changes, the process changes, the knowing and loving deepen- as does the joy.  it doesn't get easier, but it grows in it's value and passion. we transform each other. we move and speak in relation, in reaction. we journey together.


this day, today, starts another chapter- because we've decided it does- she is a teenager. we begin the years of further differentiation, of moving a step further apart- which may make the coming back together much more special, the connection potentially greater. 

for years, i've fear this time.  i was full of "what if's" and "oh no's" and anxiety about what might not happen, of how different it would be for her, for us.  for years i was in denial about somethings and wrongly convinced of other things.  for years i wasn't sure how to look at zoe, how to interpret her, how to package it all.  for years i was overwhelmed and in response i was a massive pendulum- i spent years swinging back and forth. 

three years ago when her challenges collided into an enormous mess and i stopped some of the noise in my life and slowed way down- i began to really see her.  my pendulum stopped swinging.  out of that darkness i began to live in my days, my hours, our now. it was a great big beginning - a hard, painful, beginning for both of us.  it was labor- a valuable necessary labor. 

transformation usually hurts.  it just does.  birthing hurts- but oh the joy that follows- holding that warm new child- the awe- the purity and goodness- the potential- the attachment.  life beginning, life changing. out of darkness came light- out of hard times came writing. a new birthing- that without zoe, may never have arrived.

now, in this next season, the sun has come out.  we have moved along, we have a better understanding and knowledge and acceptance. i'm learning bit by bit that there will be movement forward and backward, sometimes it will be leaps, other times tiny tip-toed steps- but in patience and trust we will go forth. 

i picked her up early yesterday from school. it was lunch time. she didn't sit at the table with the girls from her class but on the steps in the sun eating her gluten and dairy free homemade lunch.  a girl several grades younger sat beside her and they talked together.  zoe was calm and happy.  aware of herself.  knowing her needs- when to engage and when to retreat.  i'm so proud of her.

here she is. 13. at school. taking risks.  being brave. not much has come easy for her- all of her milestones have taken much effort and work- but her sweetness, her genuine love of life and people, her joy- that was all there on the day she was born- and i love to watch her bloom.