Tuesday, January 18, 2011

You're Gonna Miss This

My vision is becoming blurry. I can hardly talk. I might express my current sentiment in an ah-ta-ah-ta-ah-ah-ah kind of exhale. I'm nearly choking.

It's that song again.

You're gonna miss this
You're gonna want this back
You're gonna wish these days
Hadn't gone by so fast

These are some good times
So take a good look around
You may not know it now
But you're gonna miss this

No matter my current circimstnaces or locale, it never fails, I turn into a full-on weepfest when this ballad starts to play.

Don't even get me started trying to relate the lyrics to a friend. My hubby can attest to the streams of tears running down my face as I try to describe the meaning of the song to him. And then I have to stop talking about it to regain composure. I still don't think he knows why I like it so much.

But truly, there is something that touches me so deeply when I stop to think about all the rough moments
that I own as a parent. Despite how I so desperately want the moment of agony to cease — cue three young children screaming all at once for hours on end — I know that I'm gonna miss all of the beautiful moments of the young years when they're gone.

Turning back the pages even further, starting with the birth of my first child, I tear up just thinking about it. That labor. Those deep sensations of the womb.

That day, when the uterus gives its first real squeeze, it's a feeling unlike any other.

Despite how uncomfortable, unusual or un-freakin-believable those contractions may be, they harness a power and a beauty. The whole process downright touches the most primal places of the soul. If you let it.

The labor is a place where I have the opportunity to connect with the billions of human mothers who have birthed before me, not to mention the 490,000 woman who are birthing their children on the very day that I am birthing mine.

The intimacy of connecting with that deepest place in my body, it's a gift. One that I don't have the opportunity to receive countless times. For me, I've received the gift three times. And I miss it. I wish I could experience it every day. Well, maybe not every day.

Last night, I as taught my childbirth class, I had the special privilege of encountering one of my favorite moments of the whole series.

The Dramatization.

Those of you reading this who've taken my class know exactly what I'm talking about. Actually, you don't need to have taken my class to have seen me role-playing a woman in labor. Now that I think about it, I guess I do it at will random times throughout the day.

Anyhow, this morning it occurred to me for the first time why I so thoroughly enjoy performing this little skit of a woman working it out as she labors.

No, it's not that I get to strap on the fake belly — though it is fun to remember when my babies were always so close.

Nor is it the thrill of performance. Between you and me, I have been told that I could take my labor skit to Broadway. Shhhh.

When I really get down to it, I realize that it is the opportunity to represent labor for what it is.

A time to get primal.

A time to sing my birth song.

A time to embrace the power of the mantra, "My Body Rocks!"

A time to move and rock my body as I respond to some of the deepest body sensations I will ever have the privilege of knowing.

To paint the picture for you, my labor skit includes strapping on the fake belly, closing my eyes, finding my rhythm, changing position, moaning and groaning. And the beautiful part of it is... there are fourteen sets of eager eyes sitting before me realizing that all of this is normal in labor. There is nothing weird, spooky or scary about it.

The walking, the pacing, the pelvic rocking, the swaying, the hip circles... all of these responses to my labor are positive. This is how I respond to the profound message my body is giving me. Keep moving, shift the baby down, more pressure on the cervix, greater release of oxytocin, stronger contractions, larger movements with my hips, deeper groans with my voice. All of it is normal. All of it is beautiful.

This is labor. It is a treasure. And boy do I miss it.

(And special thanks to the Science and Sensibility blog for the impetus to write on this topic today!)

Trace Adkins - You're Gonna Miss This


  1. (sniff) yes, I can so relate (sighs heavily). I hate when this song comes on the radio when I am driving with my teen-aged girls. I have to force myself to think of something like my shopping list or I try to say my ABC's backwards in my head so I don't lose it and start bawling.

    Yeah, very jealous of anyone's baby bump. Nice to know I'm not alone.

  2. For real! The car is the worst. I have to change the channel so I don't turn into a sobbing mess and get in a wreck. I'll have to try the shopping list trick next time. I'm glad to know I'm not alone on this one, too :)

  3. Thank you for this lovely blog carnival contribution and for sharing how you incorporate the teaching of movement into your CE classes...
    ~ Kimmelin Hull

  4. A student from class sent me the following in an email, stating that she couldn't sign in to post it, but wanted to respond with her sentiments:

    I gave birth 7 weeks ago and I can't wait to do it all over again. I remember that night in class and being so eager to have it be all over with. Now I am just so sad that it's gone. It's like your wedding day, if you truly don't stop to enjoy it, it will be over before you know it. I still can imagine that I compare my wedding day with the day I gave birth as one of the happiest days of my life and that I would truely relive any of them.

    Sitting here at 4 in the morning with my little guy i know this is one of those times I am going to miss.

    Thanks, Renee

  5. Wow. Made me cry. Thanks for sharing!


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