My Childbearing Hips Are My Badge of Honor
By: Evin Marie.
For as long as I’ve had a bend in my waist, it’s been said that I had childbearing hips
Though I’m sure someone along the way may have intended it to be a dig, I always regarded it at as badge of honor. Amidst my many other aspirations, being a mother was always high on my list. Even when I experienced severe “hysterectomy-worthy” menstrual symptoms, I embraced them believing, that my body was preparing me for the pain it would require to birth my babies. I was ready.
Time for these childbearing hips to produce
During my first pregnancy, I excitedly/nervously prepared for a natural birth. Books. Videos. Classes. Prayer. I could imagine the final exertion of effort to bring my first child into the world, the notorious final push as my due date came…and went. A week later, my doctor suggested stripping my membranes to induce me… within 24 hours my water broke. She’s coming, I thought. Time to breathe, time to push, time for these childbearing hips to produce. I was ready.
No dilation. No contractions. Induction failed…and kept failing. A fever and 42 hours later, the doctor insisted on an emergency cesarean. My husband heard that I was in danger and the baby could suffer. All I heard was that there was something wrong with me, I couldn’t push my baby and I fought it. At the 44th hour, my Firefly was pulled from my belly on a surgical table-I didn’t feel the moment.
Though nothing can compare to the joy of her birth, the first tidings I received after her delivery from nurses, family and friends, wasn’t the crowning “You did that thing!”, but more of consolation. “It’s ok, at least the baby is healthy.” Of course. That was most important. I just wasn’t ready to feel like an underachiever on the day I had my first child. I felt ashamed and I wasn’t ready for that.
I felt stripped of my super powers.
I’d believed in my hips for the greater part of my life
I dodged “So, how was it?” questions and scowled at my loved ones who “let it slip.” I cursed my OBGYN. I didn’t even want to go back for a my check up with her. I felt like she betrayed me…stole from me to advance-the-selfish-plots-of-medical-professionals-in-the-U.S.-to-rush-along-my-moment-so-that-she-could-get-paid-more-and-be-home-by-dinner (at least that’s what I read).
My fantasies of doing TaeBo 6-weeks postpartum and “snapping back” were dead. Having an incision in the middle of my body made me feel like I was going to rip in two like some kind of folktale character. I didn’t stretch, much less exercise vigorously, for over a year because…well…I was afraid. My hips grew more and more seeming to spite me.
My magical childbearing hips
Seventeen months later, I was pregnant again and I had another chance. This time I’d be ready. Doula. Midwives. VBAC specialists. Hard dancing in my living room to house music. I was admitted at 41 weeks to be induced; nothing. I checked myself out of the hospital and went home.
Days later, I sat in the tub trying to will my baby to come. If this was my last child, I wanted labor to be everything I’d dreamed of–pain, sweat, laboring, pushing, exhaustion (you know, the good stuff!) or maybe even one of those Martin Lawrence comedic-style “Pop!” deliveries…because of my magical childbearing hips.
In my headphones played Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years.”
“…Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything, take away
What’s standing in front of me
Every breath, every hour has come to this
One step closer”
And as I listened, I was reminded how the song took new meaning the first time I looked into the eyes of my Firefly.
I imagined myself pregnant as my ancestors were-enslaved working in a blistering cotton field
I paused for the many women who have lost their babies and their lives because no intervention was available or given or successful.
“I have died everyday, waiting for you
Darling, don’t be afraid, I have loved you for a thousand years…I’ll love you for a thousand more…”
I imagined the same life-long desire I had to be a mother in each of them and nothing, namely pride and unmet expectations, would separate them from that blessing.
“…Time stands still
Beauty in all she is
I will be brave
I will not let anything, take away
What’s standing in front of me
Every breath, every hour has come to this
One step closer…”
I checked into the hospital again. Tried again. Then, I shamelessly chose the second cesarean birth of an equally beautiful, uniquely magnificent baby girl, Faith, and I was grateful.
“Wouldn’t take nothing for my journey now” – Maya Angelou
The only thing I would change is shame
My birth stories are as much a part of my purpose as Firefly and Faith. I was inducted into the society of mothers by the “stuff” that makes motherhood the most exalted position on the planet. My desires interrupted by circumstances and yet made perfect by acceptance, sacrifice, love and the manifestation of new lives with infinite possibility. In retrospect, the only thing I would change is the shame. My birth stories are as much a part of my purpose as Firefly and Faith. They taught me to accept my journey; create my own benchmarks. To DIY my own badges of motherhood-cause I’m a co-creator, not just a duplicator. It’s all a part of my fingerprint.
I hold a renewed respect for the value of my hips
Since then, my childbearing hips have comforted tearful toddler faces, borne arm-carried car seats; been saddle for giggling little girls riding piggyback and metronome for our dance sessions in the living room singing “Who run the world- GIRLS!” I hold a renewed respect for the value of my hips and for my motherhood…beyond the labor story.
“She Got Them Childbearing Hips”
Back in the day,
with my own intentions
I’d Coca Cola down pavements
And men then found it their
Entertainment to
“Ooo-wee” and
“G–D—!”
At the caldron below my waist
That bubbled, bubbled toiled and
Troubled their minds
From side, front and behind
She got that-
She got that-
She got them
Childbearing HipsUnbeknownst to their unwelcomed nasty
I claimed that as
affirmation of my deepest desire.
To lock souls with with a warrior of my destiny
Become we
And birth Black Excellence
Again and again
from my
Childbearing HipsChapters into my
Happily ever after,
my fairy-tale was deferred
in a word:
Cesarean.I felt pathetic
placed my worth in
Hips now
prosthetic…Mind and Heart
All armagged-ic
Until my baptism-
I died to the world of
Me Phi Me
and
I resurrected
A Mother
of
Two Magnificent Shes.Those girls release me
To see myself beyond the
“Supposed to” and “shoulds”
And now, for their sake
I say,
I wish a hip would
Stay limited to how it did
Or did not bear a child
Two carved womb smiles
and yet I’m still
Undefiled.
They’re wide,
fly
and
irregardless
they my,
Childbearing hips.Twilight comes
And sleep runs
From the grasp of
An angel eyed She.
Night visioned, I scoop her up
Swaying like a hammock
Inspired by a southern breeze
Lulling her to dreamland on these
Childbearing hips.House music bumps
in our house
Like
every other dinner-cooking.
Wild haired little shes
Jump
Nod
Twist
Flip and all the while looking
At mommy’s doon-dada
Rocking to the beat
They try to mimic
Air-hoola-hooping
So sweet
I grin at culture
and womaninity
Being teached
by my
Childbearing hips.Tears flow
And little she-bodies wriggle
As taming the crowns
Of queens-to-be
Hurts more than a little
Balling up fetal
Sitting in the middle
Comfort is found
On these
Childbearing hipsI day-stare into future hours
When my little shes
Will grow and gain their powers
Fierce
Brilliant
Spirited
Wise
And yet,
I imagine
days seeing uncertainty in their eyes
Some he or it
Barking at their trail
Attempting to define
Failing to derail
And I will tell them stories
of mommy
writing her own tales
Sitting on the throne
Of my
Childbearing Hips.-Evin Marie
