Transition

So transition is described (in reference to pregnancy) as:

“Transition is the phase of labor just before the pushing stage. At about 6 or 7 centimeters of dilation, some of the symptoms of “transition” appear. During transition, contractions become very strong, and often their duration and frequency are less predictable.

At this stage of labor, the laboring woman may feel confused or even unable to cope at all. Legs and arms may tremble uncontrollably. Belching, hiccuping, feeling nauseated or even vomiting may occur. Most women recall feeling irritable and often become astonishingly rude. The coach will need to be particularly attentive and encouraging at a time when it is not going to be too rewarding to do so. The extreme changes in body temperature will require the obvious treatment of either adding or removing blankets.

Toward the end of this accelerated phase, but often before the cervix is fully dilated, the laboring women may feel the urge to push (or what feels like the need for a bowel movement). A couple of these signs, but especially the urge to push, often indicate transition.” –┬áLinda Jenkins, RN

I don’t know Linda.

I’ve never been lucky enough to experience childbirth.

However, I feel like ‘transition’ has kind of been my mantra the last few days.

I feel like I’m on this precipice, this brink of something new. Maybe new isn’t the right word. Just a page is about to turn in my book.

I’ll be honest – when I think of my losses I don’t think of them as babies. I don’t want to be controversial or political – to me, my losses were the loss of a potential body. My GP helped change my mindset on this. My baby is still out there – waiting for the right body.

Miscarrying is such a weird experience. I found this quote while browsing the web tonight,

“To be told my baby had died was incomprehensible. To continue living when my world was lying shattered at my feet was unthinkable. But I survived it and I promise you my friend, you will survive it too.”

You think you won’t survive it. You think you can’t. Some days it still feels that way. Every pregnancy announcement, every new squishy small human born into this world immediately brings me back to that place of mourning. Then I transition to this bizarre place of being OK?

 

I’m not sure whether it’s being OK or being numb, either way I think it’s part of this beautiful transition I am going through.

There are still days where I visualize scraping out my insides.

There are also days when I feel hopeful.

I’m transitioning.

I read somewhere (I’m sure it was from the brilliant mind of Ina May Gaskin), when a mother goes through transition during childbirth she leaves her body to collect the soul of her child. Being I haven’t been through childbirth those of your reading this who have are probably rolling your eyes thinking it’s the most rainbows and unicorns thing you have ever heard. I remember when my cousin was telling me her birth story she explained it like, “you just go into labor-land” – maybe that’s the time.

This will keep me going.

This one idealistic thought, that one day I will finally go to find my baby, will keep me moving forward.

Until then BBQ.

Transition.

MW

1:30 a.m. Ramblings…

It always just starts as me not feeling good.

Then it’s 11:00 p.m. – I’m working on a project for work. It’s 12:00 a.m. and I’m telling myself I should get in bed.

I don’t even necessarily not feel ‘good’ anymore. I just feel lost.

I’ve generally felt lost for a few months now. Like I’m not quite where I am supposed to be.

Ever.

Like I’m always just a few minutes too early or a few minutes too late.

I walk into a room and even if it’s in my own house it’s like the air is just a little thick.

Like something big just happened and I missed it.

Like someone I love just left the room, or is still there… lingering. I just can’t see them.

Then it’s 1:00 a.m. and I feel this magnetic pull to come here and spill my guts.

Because the reality is if you called me at 10:00 a.m. I would probably be either cheery and be ‘fine’ or be stressed with work.

I would never tell you how I really feel.

Not because I want to be inauthentic – sometimes I just don’t know what to do with what I’m feeling so why ask you to try to get it.

Plus the usual dollar store dribble about ‘being here for me’ is just something we say to fill a void.

If you wanted to be here – you would.

It’s 2:00 a.m. and I feel like seeking something.

An answer.

I get this sudden urge to empty all of my cupboards and scrub them clean.

Like if my fucking cupboards are clean my brain won’t feel so messy.

I desperately want to blare my music. I need to blast out the sound of your heart beat.

The melody of my womb and the thump thump thump of your small heart.

It plays over and over and over again. Like a carousel I can’t get off.

I haven’t gone to the closet for some time now. I haven’t smelled the shampoo and lotions.

In a way they have lost their comfort. They don’t feel soft and warm any more. They feel cold. My arms just feel heavy and empty after I give in.

It’s 2:30 a.m. and now I’m deciding whether or not I take a few Vistaril to facilitate some sleep.

I have to be up in a few hours to do it all over again.

And I will.

Because it’s what I have to do.

MW