Preconception was my first introduction to the vulnerability of parenting and naturally, pregnancy continued to indoctrinate me into this entirely new world of paradox; this space where I felt challenged to hold extreme emotional polarities simultaneously.
Before even getting the positive pregnancy test, I was out of breath and craving cheeseburgers.
Day after day, I was in awe as my body became so completely unfamiliar.
I studied my pregnancy books, I walked, I napped. I dreamed of the little one growing inside my belly (a poppy seed, a plum, a melon now…). I spent lots of time wondering if what I was doing was “right” or “okay.” I second guessed, I took deep breaths, I sought reassurance from my husband and I took notes at each appointment with my provider. There were just so. many. questions. And, so many changes.
I missed my family on the other side of the country and ached to share each and every change, flutter, worry and wondering with them.
Gradually, as the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, I found a growing confidence in myself, in my body, it’s wisdom and in my partnership with the baby we had come to call “Will.” He was to be a junior, Shawn William Shirey. And boy, did we love him.
We sang to him and played classical music, we wrote him letters, we prepared the nursery (a corner of our bedroom) and ordered cloth diapers (used once). My hands found my belly at every opportunity.
I was a nurse at UWMC at the time. I felt the rapid kicks during times of stress throughout my work day. I worried that I was on my feet too much, not staying hydrated or nourished as I should. I packed my lunches and tried to take breaks, but it was a challenge to find the balance.
During a particularly stressful shift with a very sick patient who was struggling to breathe, I had to call a “Rapid Response.” As I placed oxygen on my patient and colleagues raced into the room to provide support, I felt my little one kick like he was trying to escape. Will flipped and flopped until the patient was out of danger and I was able to take a moment to rest.
I requested “light duty” (administrative work instead of patient care) immediately afterward. Supported by my provider and husband, I embraced this new, gentler, intentional phase of the journey.
Many of my colleagues boasted about working their last shift on the floor on the same day they went into labor…but I knew, that was not the path for me. I was only midway through my pregnancy, barely boasting a belly, but I held my head high.
The days stretched on and I relaxed into becoming a mother.
Despite the worries and uncertainties, life just felt special—like there was a little bit of fairy dust sprinkled over my head.
. . . . . . . .
Fast forward five years and now pregnant with Johnny. After three long years of trying to conceive, this pregnancy felt differently magical. Without the newness of my pregnancy with Will, but with a certain destiny stamped all over it.
I was sure of myself and my body. I was immersed within the birth community, surrounded by professional colleagues and resources. I had built a community to support my clients and had became the lucky beneficiary myself.
I was at the height of my success as an entrepreneur. I taught classes and training sessions six days per week and many of those classes had waitlists. I was at capacity for taking on new clients.
I was reaching the goals, growing the brand and was bursting with ideas.
As my pregnancy progressed, I soon found that I was also bursting with overwhelm. And, intuitively, I knew what I had to do.
Midway through my pregnancy with Johnny, I closed the Phinney Ridge studio so that I could nourish myself, my pregnancy and my family.
It was an excruciating decision and was not a popular choice within the community. Despite this, I knew it was the next right step.
My voice trembled sharing the news with clients, I wrote and rewrote the newsletter with the update, I felt sheepish and was unable to make promises of “when I would be back,” or of what the next version of Bodies for Birth would be. The canvas was blank and I had no plan.
I was told that I was letting people down. That I was abandoning them.
Despite this, it was a strong move and a vote for myself. I was at once, completely confident and terrified. I leaned into support, into love and dissolved into the space I had created for myself.
It took time for my nervous system to settle and for the voices of doubt to quiet, but once they did, there was tremendous peace. I would be okay. Bodies for Birth would also, be okay.
I thought of one of my mentors, the late, legendary Penny Simkin (❤️). I heard her words in my head, “People have good reasons for choosing the things that they do.”
This has become a guiding principle and supports the value of unconditional positive regard fostered at Bodies for Birth; but in this case, the person choosing was me.
After a decade of witnessing, supporting and holding space, I hardly need to state the obvious—no one journey is the same and what a journey each time.
Through my own stumbling and uncertainty, I have learned the value of support and resources so clearly.
I aim to provide both in abundance as you navigate the winding and sometimes turbulent path to and through pregnancy.
Thank you for continuing to follow along with these newsletters and for sharing in my own journey of motherhood. Through our work together, my life is enriched beyond measure and I am forever grateful.