I Dreamnt of My Child

I dreamnt of my child before I knew what motherhood meant. I saw the scrabble of names I would choose, the books I would buy for them, the games we would play and the places we would visit. I imagined the ease, the grace and the joy. I saw the child, the mother and the family. It would all fit elegantly into my future agenda. Motherhood was the vision of simply raising a child with love.

When I got closer to the actual pregnancy, I began to dream of the birth. I read all of the great books on natural childbirth, the classics which would inspire me to home birth. I envisioned the candles, the soft music, and the husband stroking my forehead. My baby would slide from my womb into my arms. The birth was the means to the end. My baby would simply be born.

With each Mothers Day I am reminded of my journey, the transition and metamorphosis into a full-blown mother. The ease and grace would eventually bubble from the insecurities and emotional challenges that motherhood has to offer. My fears would birth new life into everyday snippets as I heal a fever and wipe the vomit. Yet my joy is draped around my heart like a brightly colored necklace, covering the bewilderment of what it means to be a mother. I have entered a new chapter.

Without our births, no matter how we birthed, motherhood cannot be experienced. We are birthers first, mothers second. I grabbed the titanic subject by the horns and wrapped my legs tightly around it’s neck. Birth would be something I wanted to experience with passion and presence, not something that would just happen to me. I need to be fully immersed in it. The choices, the decisions and the actual birth would stem from the depths of my spirit. I would own my birth and tune in to my inner wisdom. I would birth as women have for generations before me. What I did not know was how much the birth and the transition to motherhood would not only turn my world on it’s back, but how completely it would shape the new woman inside of me. I not only birthed my children, I truly birthed a full-bodied woman.

It is through being fully present in my birth process that I was able to expose the map work of my life. All of the pre-conceived visions of me were brought to surface as my family watched me go through labor. I would shed the skins of the little girl, the daughter, the friend and the lover. I stood before the world naked and vulnerable, ready to receive divine love and the grace of the universe to take me to the heights of self-realization. The hands would caress me, the community would feed me, but in the end it was it was my body and soul that I was accountable for. My mind would birth the baby and my body would follow.

I close my eyes and transport to that capsule in time. I hear the breath of god in my ears, the wind of the universe in my hair and the cradle of love surrounding my womb. The transport from one to two is a volcanic explosion that booms with the echo of mankind. It bellows and howls at the moon and the stars, yet whispers the subtle sweetness of freshwater rivers running through my veins. My deep curdled moans vibrated on those dark nights to bring forth my baby, my spirit and my past. I would be fully exposed to my child and the comfort of knowing would assure me. Motherhood captured me and shook me until I could no longer recognize the female I was before. I was complete and full, unsure of the course it would wind itself through my newly blossomed life.

Once both of my children were born, the restlessness in my being began. I spent afternoons, sandwiched between them while they napped, writing and discovering. I continued to peel off the layers of my life, to get to the core of my deepest intentions. I was soul-searching as I mothered, resurrecting what had been buried amongst the lives I had lead before. There was something that I needed to do, a path I needed to follow. The births and the children had pushed me into envisioning my life purpose. It had to be bigger than me. It had to vibrate to the rest of the world, driving me towards the light and the glory of living. Motherhood basically woke me up to find that my true self was more magnificent, beautiful and magical than I had ever imagined. I would not be satisfied unless I could share this gift with the community at large. I had birthed my boys and I had birthed myself. This ecstasy would continue to live many more lives and go through a multitude of processes. Life in all of it’s inconsistencies had found solstice buried between my breasts connecting me to my children, my lifeline and the entire universe. I take a deep breath, kiss the cheeks of beauty manifested and welcome it all with open arms. Motherhood.

Christy Funk
May 18, 2009