Birth day minus three

I'm counting down the month before Isaac's first birthday by posting something about his birth each Wednesday. We've had one installment so far, and here's installment number two:

I was so frightened of giving birth. I had the same fears as many other pregnant women -- afraid of the pain, afraid for my safety, afraid that a series of medical interventions would dehumanize the birth, and most of all afraid for the baby's safety -- but what paralyzed me was the fear of freaking out. I was terrified of my own potential fear. I had suffered from anxiety attacks previously, especially in health-related contexts, and I was sure that I would spend labor and delivery in a constant state of debilitating panic. (It's hard to explain; I suspect that only someone who has struggled with anxiety or panic can fully understand this.)

I mentioned my fear of panicking at every doctor's appointment, and the doctors always said, "We can give you a little something if that happens" -- meaning a sedative or anti-anxiety medication. My doula said in her best tough-love fashion, "So what? Even if you panic for 12 hours straight, that baby is still coming out." I didn't find either of these strategies helpful, so I devised my own treatment plan based on both cognitive-behavioral therapy and the book Birthing from Within. (Note: I didn't find much when I searched the Internet for generalized anxiety disorder and childbirth, so if you stumble across this blog looking for help, let me know and I'll happily share my methods!)

One of my favorite tools was a guided visualization I wrote that combined concentration on my breathing with a nature image -- a silver maple tree in our yard that responds to the slightest breeze. I imagined that in labor I would breathe in, slow and deep, and I would visualize the wind sweeping the leaves of the silver maple toward me. When I exhaled, I thought, I would visualize the leaves rushing away, the branches bending gently with my breath. In practice I hoped I would find it distracting, comforting, grounding, calming, inspiring. I was very pleased with it, and spent quite some time fine-tuning my prose as I sat in a lounge chair in the yard, looking up at the tree.

During my labor, the tree never crossed my mind. Not even one leaf. I didn't need it -- I simply wasn't afraid.

However, I can't deny that the act of writing the visualization brought me peace of mind beforehand. And now whenever I sit in the yard and look at the tree, as I am right this moment, I am filled with compassion and tenderness for myself this time last year, filled with needless fear and misplaced focus. Yes, I was waiting for Isaac, but I was thinking too much about myself and his arrival, and not enough about him.

Of course, I didn't know him yet. Now I know that he loves to look up at the silver maple leaves swaying in the wind. That feels right.