I recently shared some tender early pregnancy insights over on the beautiful Tribe de Mama IG page. I find the community that Dori has created so powerful and as an expecting womb-an, the online sisterhood and raw openness with which all aspects of motherhood are explored has been such an empowering and supportive resource as these new and mysterious months unfold.
I wanted to share my stories in this space; as every mother knows, with each week that passes the feelings evolve, and the destination is still so unknown but I hope they inspire, comfort and open the door to an honest exploration of expecting.
Pregnancy as Sacred Purification
In my first weeks of pregnancy, I experienced a visceral refusal of some surprising things beyond the kitchen cupboard. Instagram made me almost wretch for two weeks straight. Crystals made my stomach turn and my head hurt. My faithful palo santo was nothing more than sickly smoke and air. A screen of any sort brought saliva rushing to my mouth. Makeup felt like lunacy.
Anything non essential to our growth became invasive, pointless, nauseating and exhausting.
Disoriented, I knew deep within that I had to reassess everything to go forwards on this path.
Convenient or not. Social media? Not today. Blog? What blog?
My feet longed for soft earth, my lungs for clean air, my body for the ocean.
Give me authentic connection or none at all.
Holding new life, I am becoming more a womban each moment and discovering boundaries I have long searched for and never knew I had. Falsity loses its justification. People pleasing has gone out the window: it’s me first this time and I promise I’m not kidding. I feel rising within me an ancient knowing and force that cuts through the noise of my conditionings and sets me stronger and more self-aware upon my 32 year old feet.
But It’s no longer just me. I have become a creator, a sacred host, a divine vessel, a life source that cannot be replaced right now. I was the needy, now I am needed. One day it was all for me, now it’s all of me for someone so small and fragile and strong. How can I love something I haven’t even seen or touched so profoundly? It both terrifies and nourishes me on levels I can hardly comprehend.
And a dialogue begins… I am becoming mama.
All my life I’ve struggled with the gap between doubt and trust. Shortly after conceiving the soul we had been calling in, I found myself navigating layers of fear that I knew lurked in my core, yet was surprised by this time where books and apps tell me I should be grinning like an advert or wearily throwing up.
Raw with hormones, suddenly an open portal, I swam tidal waves of anxiety around loss with no choice but to reach the other side, thrust into the initiation of motherhood and a ruthless purging of all that would not serve me.
And then, resting in the sweet joy and space that they left.
Trusting nature. Our mother.
I’ve got this and my sisters have got me.
And I’m healing.
Now halfway, a new question emerges: can I? Can I really do this? Can I birth my baby and sustain its miraculous life? Born at 27 weeks, I couldn’t make it out the natural way; this passage is unknown for me – but all the more powerful and healing for it. However it unfolds.
When I was 19, I had a reduction on my right breast. The scar punctuates my womanhood; today as my breasts grow heavy and fast, I see it expand like magic. Will I be able to nurse from this nipple? Will it withstand the demands? Will my breasts grow uneven again?
Does it even matter?
This is my journey, no one else’s.
Surrender and courage: I know I must flow like the ocean. Control won’t serve me here; fears must be fully heard, understood, and left behind.
I dance with a little more trust each day.