Just a Doorway to a Life

Six months after Elias birth I returned to Pacific Northern Academy, a small private day school, to teach one class of Creative Nonfiction to Juniors and Seniors. I made a promise to my students that any writing I assigned to them I'd complete as well. They learned a lot that year about Elias and pregnancy and loss.

I knew nothing about Elias's special needs then, only that he had a high chance of facing all kinds of issues. I was still pumping and hoping he'd learn to breast feed. Still grieving the birth I planned. The natural one with a midwife as opposed to the emergency c-section in the middle of the night on an operating bed in Providence so filled with urgent medical personal and the terror of Elias breached at 24 weeks that when the anesthesiologist told me he needed to knock me out I agreed. I knew I needed to be gone so my body could stop shaking.

Gone. For the birth of my only child.

Months later, I talked to a fellow teacher, a mother who also experienced an unplanned c-section, about my regret--about the loss of my dream of pushing my child into the world so I could hold him to my breast and know he's mine. After listening empathetically, she said something I'll never forget:

Putting all your hopes and dreams into the birth is like putting all your energy into the wedding and forgetting about the marriage.

During the days before the ceremony, it can be hard for a bride and groom to remember that they aren't committing to sign on as party planners. They will not be sitting down to dinner each night with all their extended family, friends, neighbors, and the people they had to invite. They won't be bombarded by  decisions about table cloths, vows, and dance songs. They wont be parading past white lights with caked-on smiles till death do them part... It doesn't matter how laid back the couple or how casual the wedding or how much love they harness, the days leading up to this age old ritual stretch and fluster and rattle. And yet no matter how detailed the plans, when the day appears, something unexpected arises.

But often when they return to a twosome, eating toast and taking the dogs for a walk, that something will make them smile. And if not, they have years to widdle away the memory until it becomes just one of a collection of moments from a shared life. The wedding, like a birth, lasts but a day. The real work belongs to the marriage--to the child-- because with care and time they deliver more than confetti, more than pain, more than a party, but a promise of hand that fits into yours.

(Today Nick's sister Lyndsay and Neil say, "I do", and regardless of how the wedding unfolds, I'm pretty sure the two of them will fill their days with love, laughter and good work.)

Comments

[Vicki Forman]

That's beautiful.

[Kyla]

This was a great post. You said it perfectly.

Tell the newlyweds congratulations.

[Nic]

Wow, what a great post. As one who also had tremendous regrets about not being able to have a vaginal birth (x2) your post was a gentle reminder about what is really important. Thanks.

[Kellie]

A wonderfully written post. Thank you for putting my own emergency c-section under general in perspective. It was but a day afterall.