coconut water
They say comparison is the thief of joy. But, there hasn’t been much joy in my life lately.
I’m just shy of 33 weeks postpartum and feel like I’m back in the darkness of 3 weeks PP.
In a busy coffee shop, just a block from my home, I sit at a crowded table fighting back all the tears and hoping my very engorged breasts don’t start leaking down my grey t-shirt. I’ve just come from the hospital where my friend, Alyssa, gave birth to her daughter. Walking the halls at the hospital where I gave birth to my son only seven months ago sent my body into an emotional panic. Before seeing her, I knew from her family & friends that she had a Caesarean, just as I did, but hers was for different reasons, and I knew her birth was already so different than mine. Only a few weeks ago I broke down in front of her, still dealing with the trauma of my birth and I told her about the things I wish hadn’t happened for me, so that she could make sure they didn’t happen for her. And, they didn’t happen for her. She was able to advocate for herself. She had a voice during her birth, with people that were there to ensure everything was done like she wanted for each situation that occurred. And, that makes me so happy.
As happy as I am for her, my heart is not whole. I’m sad because none of this is the way I had imagined it. I feel isolated, lost and angry.
As we waited for our new mama in the hallway outside of her private hospital room, a familiar face appeared. It was my friend and the midwife at our birth, Jess, who also happened to be Alyssa’s midwife. Not expecting her to be there as I had messaged her and knew she was off to another birth made it so when she appeared I almost didn’t recognize her. It gave me intense deja vue of the moment in the operating room at my own birth, where I suddenly realized she was there, not knowing she had made it in. I hadn’t seen her since our last visit when Oscar was still just a handful of weeks old, while it was just me & him as my husband was on tour. Seeing her brought everything back. It rushed through my whole body. The heat filled my whole body and the only escape was through tears. Tears escaped my eyes as we embraced. Next anger then filled my body. I became mad with myself for my tears because today wasn’t about me. Today was about Alyssa and the birth of her sweet girl. Jess kept me close, hugged me tight and kept me held tight until my cries stopped, like she was reading my mind. It was all too real, too emotional being back in the hospital with her, but then I heard something and knew Alyssa was coming around the corner, and I bottled it up.
I watch as her family members smiled ear to ear watching her come around the corner with her sweet baby cradled in her arms. The nurses got her situated in her private room, with baby cuddled up to her breast nursing. She was glowing, like truly glowing. And, so were all the people in the room.
There was such calm that existed in her hospital room. It was unlike anything I had experienced there before. Each person was truly present taking in the moments and completely respectful of Alyssa’s wishes in adapting her birth experience from the desired home one she hoped for, to the hospital after her little babe refused to change from her breech position.
Music was playing quietly from a little speaker, and I knew it was her playlist that had been on the whole birth, just as she wanted. Her sister and doula quietly switched up the blankets without any fuss. A big cozy pink blanket for Alyssa, and a soft little purple one for the baby. Then smooth like butter they slipped Alyssa out of her hospital gown into a creamy soft robe as she continued to feed Summer. We opened the windows after a little while where a beautiful snowstorm danced in front of us. Her dad and mom were cuddled up in a chair, arms wrapped around each other, just mesmerized by their daughter & granddaughter. Everyone’s voices were calm and warm. There were no squeals, or anyone asking to taking the baby from Alyssa. Things were peaceful and focused on making sure Alyssa was happy. I heard little bits about the birth and it warmed my broken heart hearing her experience, and how deeply beautiful it was. It didn’t feel like an hour had passed when the conversations shifted to food. Her best friend brought up coconut water and how they needed to get her some. “She will want the big one”, she said explaining which one it was. It amazed me that everyone knew what she wanted without really needing to bother Alyssa. It was like this secret little conversation among them so causal it was like asking to pass the salt. No one bugged her and when they asked her things, everything was so calm and gentle.
It’s silly what we focus on. Like, coconut water. They knew she wanted coconut water, the kind and the amount. And it wasn’t something they were going to make a big deal, or let go of. It was just something that would happen because it would. I’m gonna guess that by now she’s probably drinking that coconut water now too, music still playing softly and her heart fluttering with all the love she’s feeling for that sweet girl who’s one hundred percent cuddled in her arms. And, it warms my heart that her experience was so truly peaceful and beautiful.
