Each and every birth story is unique and magical. And very personal. Those who know me well realize how hard it is for me to put myself out there. I decided to share my birthing experiences because I believe that when it comes to our own bodies and minds we are the experts and we deserve to be heard and respected during pregnancy, preparation for birth, and beyond. My hope is to encourage and support you to advocate for yourself during this very special and vulnerable period.
No matter what your story is, there is a place to share it. There are many amazing people out there who will listen to you. Why do we need to share our stories?
I have been greatly blessed to have three healthy pregnancies and three birth stories to share. My experiences thought me a lot. They opened doors for me and led me into a new path in search of inner peace in chaos.
After my first birth,
After my first birth, I felt like I had just survived a big explosion. That experience was a gift comparable to a new pair of contact lenses- the way I saw myself, everything and everyone else around me changed. In two words, my first birth shook me to the core. Not only absolutely amazed, deeply grateful, but renewed, reborn. I have become a bit wiser and a lot more vulnerable, a little more insecure, and a lot more protective.
My second birth
My second birth was fast and sensational- a magical experience, that turned me into a lot messier and a lot more self-forgiving version of me. Learning to allow time and space for adaptation and growth. Learning to embrace disagreements. Celebrating the beauty of siblings’ love. Read more about How to prepare your kids for a new sibling.
After my third boy was born
After my third boy was born, I admit I have become a lot MORE vulnerable! Definitely more tired. Maybe more patient at times, learning to let go. More accepting of the fact that I just can’t please everyone at the same time. That I am an ok mom even when I cannot meet everyone’s needs.
Learning to be ok with the fact that little people need to wait sometimes, that they need to cry sometimes. Mommy needs to cry sometimes. And often she manages to wipe their tears. Other times they need to wipe their tears themselves and swim in their own disappointment and pain.
Taking the time to stare into their eyes, one kid at a time. The need to press pause- to pause the words, the requests, and the regrets. I am now a little more scattered and a lot weaker, which makes me motherly strong. In short, having less time than before, and more love than ever.