I realised I’ve lived most of my life either hitting the ground running. Or enduring insane neglect whilst not even being conscious I was. It’s as though that part of me, that desperately needed to be nurtured kept dying a thousand deaths. Yet I let it because my mind would divert me away, from my heart where the want was stored.
I kept getting flash backs today of my second child’s birth & and a doctor consultant who’s name I don’t recall. Yet his words echoed through my soul. It was one of the most loving things I saw & heard.
The following verse in the Quran about maryam/Mary mother of isa/Jesus, always held a special place in my heart.
“So she conceived him, and she withdrew with him to a remote place. And the pains of childbirth drove her to the trunk of a palm tree. She said, “Oh, I wish I had died before this and was in oblivion, forgotten.” (Quran 19:22-23)
Every time I read this I felt a pull from my soul that overwhelmed me with emotions I couldn’t tap into. It was trapped repressed emotions, I know now to be related to the trauma of my own birthing experience. That I wasn’t fully equipped to emotionally hold space for.
It was 4pm when I realised I was in labour and not dealing with braxton hicks. I think I have low tolerance towards internal physical pain, because contractions for me felt like death.
I was so scared when one was approaching and so so grateful my brother was there. To use initiative in a way that blocked, the brunt of the pain from reaching me.
As one approached he would place his hand on my lower back & with distinct circular motion, rub it till the pain subsided.
It was so cathartic for me, the only thing that worked. By 5pm my brother and his wife drove me to the hospital….I was happy they were there as my husband was abroad when I went into labour. Sad he couldn’t be there but being true to my motto of it is what it is. I hated seeing him grieve and refused to add to it or be a source of it.
That was me that person that holds it down not liking to see others suffer especially when a matter is out of their hands. He was abroad and got ill and all I wanted was to give birth and go back to take care of him. To nurse him back to his physical strength. Holding space for his dream to build me a home, mainly so he could carry hope that he could.
Upon arrival to hospital I wanted my brother and his (than fiancé) to stay with me. Staff put me through to an antenatal ward and said that I couldn’t have visitors there. I declared I was in labour and they said not yet. Confused by this I asked how do you determine that?
Apparently because my contractions weren’t mins or seconds close together I was considered to not be in active labour. I told them to read my file and look at my history. The text book rule didn’t apply to me as my body reacts to labour in strange ways. (I ended up with an emergency c-section with my first born. Because I was not considered to be in active labour and babies heart beat began to drop rapidly.)
They say history repeats itself but that adage should come with an admonition that it’s often worse.
The staff said they will check my file and move me to labour ward later. For for now I needed to go to the antenatal ward where visitors weren’t allowed.
Sad to see my brother and his wife go I was escorted alone to an empty bed near a window. My contractions were coming in every 6 mins at this point, and when one hit I would cry in fetal position feeling exposed and alone. I failed to rub my own back like my brother was.
I would miss my husbands calls, because I needed the minutes before the next contraction hit, to gather my strength.
No midwife came to check on me or offer pain relief. I felt abandoned and began to do what I was accustomed to. Go and fend for myself…
Made my way to hospital lobby and asked for pain relief. Reiterated vulnerably that I couldn’t handle the pain. I felt tortured, it was worse than my first experience and something didn’t feel right.
The midwife brushed me off with promises of someone will come see me soon.
So I began to explore the hospital as walking kept my mind active. Every few mins I would pause in the hall way, praying & firming out the contractions.
I stumbled across some room full of big bath tubs and hoped a warm bath would help.
It was a mistake, although water felt good when contractions hit I was seated in a way that didn’t help me protect my abomen and pelvis.
At this point I felt numb and in shock, sat there staring at the tiles. As contractions came and left, I no longer had the strength or will to try and protect myself. My body caved in.
Thats why that verse about Mary meant something to me. The bathtub was my palm tree. The repressed memory of this trauma was was calling out through verse so I can remember feel and release. I thought exactly what she did, ‘If only I were dead and forgotten’
40 mins later I felt my son kick and I remembered this baby is a survivor. He was telling me to hold on.
I remembered how I found out I was pregnant. The hardship and terror in event leading to it that is too surreal for me to share in this post. What mattered was that single kick helped me to remember inside me was a miracle I should fight for.
So I got myself out of the water with contractions now hitting 2 mins apart.
In complete agony I walked back to the ward. When I made it back to my bed, I saw bedsheets changed and entertained falling asleep. I couldn’t with the contractions as alarm clocks, who could…
The midwife came and decided to move me to labour ward. It was 5am when I got there I saw the woman in bed opposite me being hugged by her husband.
I pulled my curtain closed as tears fell from my eyes. What was strange was it was tears of & due to compassion not jealousy.
I saw the gas & air machine near another woman’s bed so called the midwife to ask for one. She said one will be bought shortly.
I waited and it didn’t come. I didn’t make a fuss as I was distracted by looking for my phone. It was missing and I desperately wanted to talk to my husband.
Was told it couldn’t be found, I don’t know what happened next, but my intuition said my phone was with the bedsheets that were removed from previous bed.
I told a midwife this and she didn’t really absorb it. So I got up and made my way back to previous ward. I saw 5 trolleys full of bedsheets and stood there staring, depressed at the thought that no one would check through this for me. I didn’t seem to matter.
If only I could make it easier for someone to give a damn. Suddenly my intuition came in and chose trolley number 3. When midwives saw me standing there I said “my phone is in that trolley, it got wrapped in the bed sheets I need it to call my husband please”
Passing my intuition as a fact seemed to work but it was divine mercy, that made a reluctant midwife reach inside the trolley and pull a random sheet. That happened to have my phone fall out from it.
The first real sheet she grabbed hold of was the right one. It was now morning and my family came to the hospital. Around 11am I was finally given gas & air. It did such a wonderful job I was angry it took so long to receive it. I only had it for an hour as I was now ready to give birth.
The most undignified yet beautiful experience in the world (I’ll save you from those details). I kept pushing but my son would get stuck in the birthing canal.
A few attempts and his heart beat began to drop. I was given the options of either forcep delivery or c-section. When I saw the harsh hands of the midwife, I was filled with mis trust. My intuition was flying with red flags and I became paranoid my baby would end up with brain damage as she yanked him out.
C-section was a risk for me not my child, forcep the opposite. So I chose c-section having had it before and it went ok.
With the contractions ripping through my body they rushed me to surgery. Put me on this uncomfortable tiny narrow slab they called a table. I was afraid of falling as my body couldn’t stop shaking.
They needed to put an epidural injection in my spine so c-section could commence. But I couldn’t stop the push urges the labour was naturally bringing on.
My body went into shock a second time and I began shaking profusely. Yet they still wanted to attempt the epidural? The shock rendered me silent and I prayed in my head for help. I wanted to speak but physically couldn’t.
That’s when the consultant walked in, the one who’s name I don’t know, but I will never EVER forget him or his voice.
He was the only one who SAW me, who read me energetically. One look and his professionalism went out the window. As true humanity took over from formality. With 5 frantic professionals huddled around me.
He said “What the fk? She is in DISTRESS! She is in shock, knock her out there is no time for an epidural“
That was the only moment I felt nurtured during that experience. He saw me and in doing so saw my needs.
When my body went into shock it was divine wisdom trying to give the other docs and midwives a clue. My mouth failed me in speaking due to the extruciating pain.
That taught me something vital about the language of the human body and the intelligence behind its creation. The only person who understood was that consultant.
I was put to sleep and woke up with a healthy. Beautiful baby boy. Saw my brother Zak holding him dressed and cleaned by my mum.
I asked “did you lot make sure a switch wasn’t made as I never saw what came out”
Every one laughed but I knew he was mine, when I saw my husband staring back at me. Having been awoke now for 6 mins I heard phone ringing and it was my husband.
He seemed frantic as phone was put on silent and he couldn’t get through for hours. “Habibti” he said with a relief filled tone, habibti means my beloved.
Followed by a “What happened to your phone!” Interrupted by my calm tone that showed him we are here now. “How are you how are you feeling?” He asked to which I replied “I went to hell and back but survived. Alhamdulilaah all is well, it’s a boy”
I will never forget his reaction I could see him in my minds eye smiling as he said “a boy? Mashallah” he quickly informed his mates that were around him “She had a boy!” I could feel his relief and pride that the storm was over and was just glad to share the news.
Knowing he named our first born and I had dibs on naming the second. In the most cutest negotiable way I’ve ever seen, he vulnerably said
“Name him abdirahman”
I wanted to make a case but I was more intrigued by his firm vulnerable energy. So instead I asked why that name and he said
“Because it’s meaning is in homage to gods name of the most merciful and with everything these past couple of months, I swear it nothing but his mercy got me through. I know what we agreed…”
I cut him off and replied “It’s ok Abdirahman it is” Intuitively something told me to accept lovingly. I’m so glad I did.
24 hours after our sons birth my husband passed away, having just entered his late 20s.
My heart broke, no one saw that coming. When I recieved the news I was still in the hospital healing from surgery. What was strange was minutes after hearing huge slumber came over me. I fell asleep and had a dream where I was running looking for him. Still dressed in my hospital gown with name tag on wrist.
When I finally found him he was seated in a chair. I called out his name and his eyes revealed to me how tranquil he felt to see me. He couldn’t speak so reached out his hand and pulled me close, seating me on his lap. There were tears in his eyes and my energy felt like home to him. So I hugged him to give him comfort. As soon as I rested on his shoulder I felt a shift in his body, his eyes began to close. While mine remained open suddenly looking up above. The dream faded out as I now saw us from above seated in that chair.
The miracles in this dream were many I’ve left out, but the most distinct for me that by passed my skepticism was the clothes he was wearing. I found out later it was the exact close he had on when he died hours earlier. I had no way of knowing that. His friends described the exact outfit I saw in my dream which showed me my inner knowing, that said his soul waited to say good bye was true.
I felt that’s why my reaction to the news of his death was to fall asleep. My soul was being called by his to come and say good bye.
That dream was my closure, meeting him on the astral plane was the ease in the hardship. Ever since that day I’ve been on a journey away from myself and now back to myself.
That baby boy I had not only looks like him as a reminder for me, every time he smiles. But his father is imprinted in him energetically.
Abdirahman has a healing touch, when ever I hold him I feel cleansed from the inside out. I’ve only noticed this consciously this year.
I wanted a sibling for his brother specifically a brother, because I hoped they could be friends riding life side by side when they are older.
And every day as I get to watch them grow. I watch extra hard for their father. Most reactions I give them, for most of what they do or don’t do, the first is mine…the second what I feel would have been his…
In transcending my internal beliefs that said strong people like me should just get on with things. I’ve realised the shadow side of this was a vengeful monster, that was deprived of my own love & nurture.
Going back to re visit the trauma behind all of this…. led me to acknowledg not only my desire to be embraced and be ok with wanting to be…. But also to not to fixate on the pain of neglect, I fear from it. In transmuting beliefs that told me I couldn’t trust others to nurture me….I know now that I can and they could…they should because I matter.
I use to hit the ground running, but I want to find solace in simply standing on it, Recieving…