This is the tale of when time stood still and a heart was caged! The tale of a mother who yearned to be a real mother without fear. A tale of a child-woman who birthed a baby, whose heart broke in fear.
Moments are as clear as polished glass and others hazy like a summers fog. The feelings though - they are real; too, Too, TOO real. Joy destroyed, Self shamed, Intuition doubted, Blame swallowed whole. These are not meant to be the soul's memories from a maternity bed! Feelings a quarter of a century old, feelings that block and grip the heart, choke the throat and punch the solar plexus.
In silence these moments of crystal clear and hazy fog have been remembered. Through darkness that lead to darkness before the light. These feelings consumed, destroyed, burnt to ashes before the phoenix rose.
But wait! Let's stay here - at the beginning for all tales need the beginning no matter how hard, no matter how touching scars burns.
I am going to be a mother! A teacher, a guide, a playmate. I am going to help my son bloom. Yet the bewilderment is just about to begin.
A midwife who has no empathy. A midwife who decided I should be shamed. Decided the child-woman deserved only another child-woman. Two child-women bewildered, unsure, fearful yet determined.
My Self felt the shame, it began the cage.
Female intuition and maternal instincts crying, screaming, begging to be heard. Something is wrong! Help me - help my baby! The child-midwife panicking not understanding the BIG RED BUTTON was meant to be pushed. Running from the room with a ripped off strip of paper in her hand.
The beginning of me doubting intuition-the beginning of an understanding the world doesn't value intuition-the beginning of hiding my intuition.
Time is passing so so slowly through the haze. The child-midwife constant in looking out the door. The time to spare is no more. Together child-woman and child-mother begin to push the baby into the world. Words of encouragement, gentle and caring with an undertone of fear are giving by the child-midwife. The pushing, the mutual fear, the what is wrong - I know something is wrong-she knows something is wrong-the moment is wrong-everything is wrong.
A crystal clear moment as the door flies open and the child-midwife is swept aside. The Midwife has a look of dread, a look of regret, a look of fear. the BIG RED BUTTON is pushed. I push - I hear no cry as the room fills with angels in blue.
Over and over I ask is he ok?
The Midwife yanks my arm and places my hand between my legs. Roughly rubbing my baby's head- the baby is here, now be quiet. And quiet we all were!
The haze descends as the angels take over. Vision hazed and crystal clear hearing. A whole heap of other world language- medical jargon to protect the child-woman.
A countdown of minutes-a sign of relief-a brief hold-a bustle out the door.
Through the haze The Midwife appears-the child one evicted in tears. Added to the fear, added to the grief, a great big heap of blame!
An undeserved heap of blame and shame.
A projected heap of blame and shame.
The kind that makes it clear this my fault not yours - welcome to motherhood this is your doing!
I did not understand, I trusted those who were meant to care.
As I sat by the crib surrounded by wires and a song made up of beeps; I placed my hand over his and willed my son to live. Silent tears flowed as my heart bled. A belief I had failed, a fear I couldn't be the nurturer and protector. A heart caged and a mind overwhelmed.
Over a quarter of a century ago began my motherhood tale. Over a quarter of a century ago began the process of becoming a mother. Joy stolen, a heart caged!
My regular readers will have seen snippets from my motherhood journey in the Tales From Motherhood series. Here is the beginning. Over the coming weeks and months I will introduce you to the whole tale. Follow me on my journey!
Love & Abundance
Nixie Foster - The Motherhood Mentor to high-achieving mums. The founder of ‘The MUM Programme - Mentoring Unique Mums’; a mentorship program to shift mum guilt and mum anxieties so you can thrive in business and motherhood.