I cannot tell you how beautiful this is, and how deeply I relate, even though each has her unique thin spaces. You have put into words what so many of us know and struggle to articulate.
At one point during my last labor I just sobbed and sobbed, leaning my head over the edge of the tub. I was near or in transition and it all just broke open. No one could do anything for me except for “hold space” as they say. My husband just sat with my hands in his, and our midwife sat quietly in the corner watching.
At my one day visit our midwife commented that while she didn’t know what I was thinking while I was crying, it reminded her of this universal pain that is being a woman in labor. She’s not a Christian, but she’s right that this suffering is a sort of portal. As soon as I see two lines on a test I begin to worry, because I begin to love.
You wrote this so beautifully, and I feel like I’ve bumbled through a comment, without really saying what I’m trying to express, because there just aren’t really words.
Congratulations! And have so much fun with the girlie things! I didn’t think I would care — I was happy to be a mother to boys (and it turns out I’m still not a headband/bow mom) but that little darling is just such a girl while still holding every inch of her own, and the boys love her and it’s one of the best things in the world.
Crying in the bathtub now ♥️♥️♥️ I admittedly have been feeling especially vulnerable and have been exposed to some very difficult and upsetting things at my job recently so reading this was needed in a way I can’t quite articulate.
Thank you Haley and so many congratulations to you and your sweet family on the birth of your daughter.
Oh, Haley, this is just beautiful. Thank you for sharing with us. I know exactly those tender feelings you describe... I've always been a really abstract, intellectual person and I *still* have some big issues with expressing emotions adequately... but birth broke open all that. I remember the postpartum thin time as such a tender experience of God's love. (it can sound ridiculous in retrospect, literally weeping watching "I've been waiting for you" from Mama Mia II...) But for all it's 'sap' I think those were the truest times in my life and if we're lucky, we keep some of those open places inside us... and never forget that feeling of loving vulnerability, so strangely combined with the almost super human strength required in birth... All that to say, God bless you and your beautiful new baby! x
Beautiful. Thank you. Pregnancy, birth, and death are truly the strongest experiences of the “thin place…where the veil between this world and the next is lifted for a moment, and it may be possible to get a glimpse of what one’s life is all about—perhaps of what life itself is all about.” (Another may be early childhood itself?) In a similar experience to yours, a college friend of mine, herself a 3rd-born daughter, died at 31 years old from cancer (leaving behind her devoted husband and 3 year old); I was halfway through my pregnancy with my own 3rd-born daughter. There is deep meaning in how God has written this that I cannot put words or even fully formed thoughts to. We surrounded her flower-laden casket (the most gorgeous, tremendous pile of flowers I have ever seen in one spot!), and sang the setting of the Blessing of Aaron that all students serenade to the graduates of our college.
May our Lord shine his face brightly on your baby girl and on you. God bless these tender first weeks with her.
This is beautiful. The juxtaposition between danger and delight surrounding birth… it can be so overwhelming and hard to explain. I remember this, particularly with my first. Thank you for putting such fraught and precious moments into words. Praise God for the gift of life and congrats on your little one!
Glad you shared this on your round-up. Raw is beautiful. I know too deeply and personally the mix between life and the threat of death - and how babies are such miracles.
Beautiful. As I prepare for labor with our third (still months away), I’m finding this space starting to break open again. You articulated so much of this experience in a way I never put in words before. Thank you.
Interesting. I have always known the concept of 'the veil' to be a pre-christian term. One that ancient peoples had as part of their customs. The veil symbolising the separation between the world of the living and the world of those who have passed. At certain times of the year, and certainly at some places, the veil becomes thin and we are able to connect with our ancestors. It was very much a feminine concept - the veil of nature personified as the Goddess.
I resonate with the liminal spaces - my father in law was dying during the last trimester of my second pregnancy. We were in in a space of birth & death with so many around us voicing their thoughts on when I should have our baby - as if I could decide that! We felt cocooned and protected during that time, and I am sure that our son and his grandfather passed each other on their journeys.
Beautiful. My grandmother passed away a few weeks before my first was born and then my other grandmother passed away not long after that. They were the two people in my life who held the most sway over my spiritual imagination, and I remember thinking that their deaths and my son's birth were all liminal moments of the movement 'out of the dark and into the light'. I've struggled with doubt off and on through my adult life, but birth has always felt like an act of faith in eternal life and the resurrection of the body.
I cannot tell you how beautiful this is, and how deeply I relate, even though each has her unique thin spaces. You have put into words what so many of us know and struggle to articulate.
God bless you.
(We have a good news girl too)
At one point during my last labor I just sobbed and sobbed, leaning my head over the edge of the tub. I was near or in transition and it all just broke open. No one could do anything for me except for “hold space” as they say. My husband just sat with my hands in his, and our midwife sat quietly in the corner watching.
At my one day visit our midwife commented that while she didn’t know what I was thinking while I was crying, it reminded her of this universal pain that is being a woman in labor. She’s not a Christian, but she’s right that this suffering is a sort of portal. As soon as I see two lines on a test I begin to worry, because I begin to love.
You wrote this so beautifully, and I feel like I’ve bumbled through a comment, without really saying what I’m trying to express, because there just aren’t really words.
Congratulations! And have so much fun with the girlie things! I didn’t think I would care — I was happy to be a mother to boys (and it turns out I’m still not a headband/bow mom) but that little darling is just such a girl while still holding every inch of her own, and the boys love her and it’s one of the best things in the world.
Crying in the bathtub now ♥️♥️♥️ I admittedly have been feeling especially vulnerable and have been exposed to some very difficult and upsetting things at my job recently so reading this was needed in a way I can’t quite articulate.
Thank you Haley and so many congratulations to you and your sweet family on the birth of your daughter.
Oh, Haley, this is just beautiful. Thank you for sharing with us. I know exactly those tender feelings you describe... I've always been a really abstract, intellectual person and I *still* have some big issues with expressing emotions adequately... but birth broke open all that. I remember the postpartum thin time as such a tender experience of God's love. (it can sound ridiculous in retrospect, literally weeping watching "I've been waiting for you" from Mama Mia II...) But for all it's 'sap' I think those were the truest times in my life and if we're lucky, we keep some of those open places inside us... and never forget that feeling of loving vulnerability, so strangely combined with the almost super human strength required in birth... All that to say, God bless you and your beautiful new baby! x
Beautiful. Thank you. Pregnancy, birth, and death are truly the strongest experiences of the “thin place…where the veil between this world and the next is lifted for a moment, and it may be possible to get a glimpse of what one’s life is all about—perhaps of what life itself is all about.” (Another may be early childhood itself?) In a similar experience to yours, a college friend of mine, herself a 3rd-born daughter, died at 31 years old from cancer (leaving behind her devoted husband and 3 year old); I was halfway through my pregnancy with my own 3rd-born daughter. There is deep meaning in how God has written this that I cannot put words or even fully formed thoughts to. We surrounded her flower-laden casket (the most gorgeous, tremendous pile of flowers I have ever seen in one spot!), and sang the setting of the Blessing of Aaron that all students serenade to the graduates of our college.
May our Lord shine his face brightly on your baby girl and on you. God bless these tender first weeks with her.
This is beautiful. The juxtaposition between danger and delight surrounding birth… it can be so overwhelming and hard to explain. I remember this, particularly with my first. Thank you for putting such fraught and precious moments into words. Praise God for the gift of life and congrats on your little one!
Thank you for this! And congratulations!!
Beautiful.
Glad you shared this on your round-up. Raw is beautiful. I know too deeply and personally the mix between life and the threat of death - and how babies are such miracles.
Bless you and your new baby.
I appreciate you sharing this more than I can say, Haley. Much love from my heart to you and yours.
so beautiful, haley. and congratulations on baby girl! ❤️
Congratulations! How beautiful it is that this tangible grace can be given to us!
Beautiful. As I prepare for labor with our third (still months away), I’m finding this space starting to break open again. You articulated so much of this experience in a way I never put in words before. Thank you.
Interesting. I have always known the concept of 'the veil' to be a pre-christian term. One that ancient peoples had as part of their customs. The veil symbolising the separation between the world of the living and the world of those who have passed. At certain times of the year, and certainly at some places, the veil becomes thin and we are able to connect with our ancestors. It was very much a feminine concept - the veil of nature personified as the Goddess.
I resonate with the liminal spaces - my father in law was dying during the last trimester of my second pregnancy. We were in in a space of birth & death with so many around us voicing their thoughts on when I should have our baby - as if I could decide that! We felt cocooned and protected during that time, and I am sure that our son and his grandfather passed each other on their journeys.
So exquisitely beautiful, Haley. I feel these things, too.
Beautiful. My grandmother passed away a few weeks before my first was born and then my other grandmother passed away not long after that. They were the two people in my life who held the most sway over my spiritual imagination, and I remember thinking that their deaths and my son's birth were all liminal moments of the movement 'out of the dark and into the light'. I've struggled with doubt off and on through my adult life, but birth has always felt like an act of faith in eternal life and the resurrection of the body.
I love this.