The Blessingway

After a scary and sleepless night in Ottawa, I knew I would be relying heavily on my Aunts. I told them that I did not want to face driving and that C and I were starving. They agreed to come visit the hospital (read: swoop in and save me) on the way to the Blessingway. C had been having an ultrasound - we watched Baby squirm around a bit and were told that Baby was big - I wish I could remember how big they estimated that day - above 8lbs and she was not even full term yet! I was happy to hear Baby looked well, but was exhausted and stressed nonetheless. I headed back to C's room to see if my family had arrived. I can still see - and feel - the walk down the hall looking at my family standing there, waiting. What it is about the presence of support, I do not know, but it was as though with each step towards them, my walls broke down a bit more. By the time I reached them, I hugged my aunt Carol and cried, not unlike a young child. They passed me around, hugged me, and consoled me. Then they fed me and got me ready for the Blessingway. Really, I was like a child. Infantile or not, I thank my lucky stars that I have my Aunties. 

I was really torn about the Blessingway. I had discussed postponing, changing location, and other ideas in order to be able to include C - she certainly needed support and celebration as much as me. In the end, I though I best attend since family had driven so far, Christie has planned so much, and because I was looking forward to it (and C encouraged me to go - she needed some quiet anyways). 

A sidenote: the use of the word "blessingway" is likely cultural appropriation, perhaps so is attending one. Christie and I discussed this and acknowledged the struggle of hosting an event like the one she was planning while also giving it a new name. It was noted that the word Blessingway is often used to describe these events and it would serve as context/a reference for guests. We believe it is important to acknowledge that the gathering was based upon mainstream knowledge of a Navajo tradition in which the woman facing a transition, ie. child birth/motherhood, is celebrated, supported, and empowered. I wish I had a wonderful reference to share here. This, I hope, is better than nothing: http://www.blessingwaybook.com/

The event could not have come at a better time. I needed support, to be re-centred. Our time was both happy and sad, joyful and fearful, reflective of my story. Everyone was there to give support and love for my upcoming labour and delivery and the new role I would take on as mother to more children. But, we were also all there to remember Patrick and Maggie - it is impossible to separate my stories of birth from my stories of loss. And as each person spoke about their connection to me and my family, it was impossible again, to overlook my gone babies. We sat in a circle and shared our experiences of labour and delivery as a supporter or birther. Most of us cried. I cried a lot. Beads were given to me, each representing traits or holding properties that would support me through labour and delivery. Each bead was so meaningful to me - my tears are strength, coming from the sea, celebrating my rainbow after my storm. It was incredible. I felt ready to give birth and face the scariness that C was going through, after my time with these women.

It was almost as though we were celebrating in a parallel world: two ongoing pregnancies and an event to prepare for upcoming births (joyful)m while also following messages from C about test results and medical encounters (fearful). We spoke about the joy and fear which exists because of my last pregnancy while C was in the hospital, a reminder of how fragile life can be.

I am so thankful for that day and for the people in my life who were there to support C and I. 

xx