I have heard a lot lately about birthing pains as a metaphor for life and death. Going through rough spots like losing a job, moving from one region to another, these are “birthing pains” for new and better things to come or so people are supposed to hope (which entirely depends on if they are optimists or pessimists or just influenced by those around them). I also heard an evangelist talk about birthing pains in death as we watch our loved ones falter with their age or health, slowly we accept that they will soon die, that death is a new birth, to the point that we are ready and willing to let them go (sometimes this acceptance happens after a sudden death, but for a mentally healthy individual it will happen).
Someday I will talk about how Christianity and I have a love and contrary relationship due to my not following the “rules” and picking and choosing from all the religions those peaceful and loving truths I choose to feel speak to my heart as being part of the divine truth…Guess that kinda sums it up there HUH?? But I digress…
I have had eight children, all naturally, severally at home, all above “average” size and all under 6 hours. I know a lot about birthing pains. I am unusual in that I obsessively love them, I love pregnancy; it is nearly impossible for me to shut up about my birthing stories once I get started. Last year I learned from my Psychologist that the hormones and chemicals created in pregnancy actually CURE bipolar disorder, temporarily of course–just for the duration of the pregnancy–all depends how the woman’s body mixes that wonderful cocktail of oxytocin, progesterone, and all that other lovely stuff pregnancy gave me. Post-partum Depression creates more confusion in the mix as the pregnancy chemicals all slip away from mommy.
Real life is not giving birth. Losing a job–if you ever had one, not making the rent money, having a failing marriage, fighting bipolar, being in an abusive relationship, trying to discern what is the best path for yourself and the children you are responsible for…you can try and breath through the pains, but they don’t produce much, they don’t stop, and from what I have seen only a very few people ever get rewarded by a sweet life before they die–most are worked and worried til death do you part.
I want to refuse to believe it HAS to be that way. I keep telling myself somehow this situation I am in is changing. All this turmoil, pain, confusion, my drive to act out and rebel against my own senses–out of stress, i know this is all due to the transition trying to take place but I don’t know why it is taking so long.
Almost 7 years since I had the affair, that was supposed to be the “make or break” but instead it just put the relationship in this limbo. I have learned SO much about myself and the whole dynamics of my marriage since then. I have grown wiser, but not stronger, not braver. I am still here. bond with another precious life, three years old now.
I try hard not to call my children Stockholm Validations, the guilt kills me when I even think it, but the more I read about Stockholm Syndrome, the more I feel it applies, when another episode happens–I love him, I hate him– the more I am ashamed that I am so weak. I cannot handle these “birthing pains” somehow I just want a normal happy life, not perfect, but not with anger, fear, criticism, abandonment, isolation,..I could do anything else I think, but I cannot do this relationship much longer.