A Journey of Healing and Self-Discovery
Letting go of the past has been both easy and hard. For years, I suppressed so many childhood traumas and memories, not wanting to face them or even remember them. But I knew I needed to confront them, as they affected my life. I used to have such a temper, even towards the smallest things. As I got older and started to welcome yoga and meditation into my life, I was able to tame my temper, but I was still suppressing those memories. It was a form of masking the issue.
Once I became a parent, I was forced to face these memories. There was no escaping it. My worries about being a new parent brought old memories to the surface. I tried to work through them, but it became overwhelming. Postpartum put me in a state of depression and darkness so deep that my husband didn’t even know who I was anymore. My worries for my child and my desire to protect them grew deeper each day. At eight months post-baby, that fog finally lifted with the help of simple diet changes, meditation, and yoga. I thought I was okay and doing well. I thought I had faced it all. But it wasn’t until I was pregnant with my second child that I realized I still had work to do.
As all mothers-to-be know, the journey of growing a child is filled with vivid dreams and hopes. I wondered if this baby would be a boy or girl, what they would look like, and how the relationship would be with my first child. Seeing a midwife was a beautiful experience, and I was grateful for it. Unlike a traditional doctor, a midwife offers a more holistic approach, asking about your feelings, worries, and fears. During my second pregnancy, my midwives knew my history and my worries about having a girl. They helped me with my concerns from the first visit. I was really hoping to have another boy. I loved being a boy mom and envisioned my son having a brother and the relationship they would share.
The day came for the blood test to find out the sex of the baby. I had them put the results in an envelope, planning to have a gender reveal party. With 2020 and the pandemic, we couldn’t celebrate the way we wanted to with my first child. Now we had a chance to celebrate for our second. I sent invitations to family and friends, coordinating with everyone living out of state. As everything came together, the envelope was enticing me, and my worry grew. If I had a girl, things would have to be different. I thought about future conversations and how I wanted our relationship to be. Would she be my stubborn, free-spirited, yoga-loving child? Would she be the hippie child I had always wanted? As these thoughts rushed over me, I grew impatient.
One night, while my husband was away on a trip with friends, I was alone, crying and facing my fears. I held the envelope up to the light to see if I could glimpse anything. There it was, plain as day: Girl. Oddly, I was overwhelmed with excitement. Facing my fear of having a girl before finding out helped. But as the days went on, I was the only one knowing this information besides the midwife. The worry flooded over me like wildfire. The mother-daughter relationship haunted my thoughts and memories. I feared that not having a relationship with my mother might be my destiny with my daughter.
The gender reveal was here before I knew it. Most of my husband’s family, my best friend from Colorado, and some mom friends I had met came to celebrate. The day before the party, my friend and I went to get our nails done. As I talked to the technician on the way out, I accidentally revealed, “Oh, I already know it’s a girl.” My friend was shocked but excited. I was relieved to finally tell someone and share my fears with someone who knew my past. It was meant to be revealed this way.
After the party and as the holidays rolled in, so did religion-based comments. I grew up Baptist, and my husband is a Catholic, but we do not go to church. We have our beliefs but don’t push them onto others. As the pandemic hit, many things changed with friends and family around us, and religion became a significant issue. Comments and pressures about what we should do grew tiresome. I realized that if someone couldn’t respect the way my husband and I choose to live, they didn’t need to be part of our lives. My sister, once very close, continued to push religious beliefs onto me daily. It rubbed me the wrong way. Religion is a subject we choose not to discuss because people have strong opinions. We respect others’ beliefs but do not appreciate having them forced upon us.
Releasing the last and only family member from my life was a moment I didn’t see coming. I cut the cord without realizing it. I no longer speak to any family member on my side, and I’m okay with it. It made me realize where I was and that I needed to work on myself even more.
My second pregnancy went as planned, another successful home birth. Four pushes and an accidental water birth later, Sage was born. As I held her in my arms, all the worries of having a girl melted away. In disbelief at how quickly she came out, I was filled with love for this tiny baby clinging to me in the tub. I remember all the blood around me and the worry on one of the midwives' faces. “We need to drain the water,” she said. The midwife asked if I was okay with having something to stop the bleeding. Remembering that they had to do it last time, I calmly said, “Do what you have to do.” My son walked in at the same time, seeing a tub full of blood and his new sister. It was a lot for him to take in. Once we were out of the tub and lying on the bed, they realized I had a tear. Watching my husband weigh our baby girl and my son walking around, I was in a daze. Before I knew it, I was lying down, being stitched up, with my son right there, watching. I was mortified. I hope he doesn’t remember this, or if he does, that he understands how strong women truly are.
As the days went on, so did my love for my daughter. I couldn’t believe how much I loved this little girl. I knew our relationship would be different from the one I had with my mother. I would protect her no matter what.
I recently traveled to Colorado for my 40th birthday. This solo trip, without kids or husband, was much needed. It was more of a healing trip, a chance to center myself and understand what I wanted for my future. As I sat in my hotel room, meditating and writing in my journal, I realized that each time I worked through my emotions, I was letting something go. One night, I had a profound experience. Lying in the dark with a sleep meditation playing, visions of things that no longer served me released from my body. I cried and felt relieved. I had a demonic dream, where I was in a rundown home with a pitch-black basement crawlspace that emitted overwhelming, consuming energy. When I woke the next morning, I felt heavy, groggy, and sad. I cried all day, releasing so much.
After conversations with friends and family, I sat in my hotel room thinking, “I did it. I released it. Tomorrow is a new day.” I woke the next morning, somewhat refreshed, and went for a walk with a cup of coffee, processing the fact that I was turning 40. As I walked, I enjoyed the sunshine, and the nature around me, and let go of my 20s and 30s. Those were teaching years, shaping and molding me into who I am today. Sitting under a bridge next to a creek, I cried, mourning my 20s and 30s, knowing I would never have those years again. But I was excited for my future. My 20s were the years I learned to be an adult and grow up. My 30s brought clarity; I knew what I wanted, got married, had two babies, moved across states, and bought a home with my husband. We worked through many marital issues.
As I sat there, thinking about my 40s, I felt hopeful, excited, and happy. I knew I needed to be happy, and that drove me forward. As I was leaving, a stranger noticed my distress and asked if I was okay. This simple act of kindness gave me confidence. I walked a little taller, with a smile on my face, ready to face my birthday. Back in my room, I prepared to welcome everyone who would visit that day. Taking a deep breath, I let go of my past. I still have some work to do, but I feel in my heart, soul, and body that I released one of the biggest burdens from my past.
This journey of letting go has been transformative. Each step brings me closer to understanding myself and breaking the patterns that have held me back. It’s about time I give my inner child the love, attention, and validation she has always deserved. This is a journey toward self-discovery and a healthier, happier future.
Comments