Atlas got a book from a close friend of mine called The What If Monster. Every time we read it I feel so lit up for him, like I want him to really grasp that there are far more positive What Ifs than negative What Ifs. But sometimes it doesn't feel so easy to light that fire under my own ass. To reassure myself that my negative What Ifs, might be wrong.

I've touched on my birth with Atlas briefly in some IG/FB posts. What I had expected, was light years from the birth experience I encountered. I have come to learn that a great deal of that was unverbalized expectations and maybe expectation in general. I had expectations of myself, of my midwife, of Sanger, of my environment. What I wanted was a natural, salt lamp lit, home birth. Reality was, holding my baby boy for the first time on an operating table in the fluorescent lights of a hospital, as they stitched up my abdominal wall.

"There is no one way to birth a child." "You are both happy and healthy and that's what matters." "You did what was best." "Having a c-section makes you no less of a mother, you still labored for 20 hours naturally."

The things people said. But inside I felt incomplete. I've explained it to friends as: it's like you are about to have the best orgasm, and then, BOOM. Nothing. But you still had sex. So what's the problem? The problem is, our bodies are magnificently intelligent. Without the release, the natural hormones never get to play their cards, and tell us on a cellular level that we are whole, that we are powerful, that we are vulnerable, that we are complete. That I am a mother. Stagnant energy settles there instead; think blue balls. But for a mama, on a cellular level it is grief. Your body is unsure if your child has entered the world, and because of its' uncertainty, your body fails to convey the message to your mind.

I was mournful in a guttural, hollow way. I faced my mortality in that operating room for the first time in my life. In my postpartum months, I fought hard for my mental and physical wellbeing, I pushed through the darkness to be the strong mom I have always told myself I would be for my children. But in actuality, it took some time for me to identify with being a mom.... All I knew was that I was changed. A dark trauma lurked. I hashed thru the details, I did the blaming, I silently pretended to forget. But having another baby was creeping in. Saenger and I both wanted to. I always said to him "If it fell into my hands one day, and I didn't have to be pregnant or give "birth." Because I had created the belief that I was broken.

Everytime we talked about it, I would get an internal aftershock. like a war veteran with PTSD. My womb would ache and I would recoil. We tentatively said, "Okay, after New Zealand, lets do it." But I couldn't imagine actually facing those fears, so I wasn't all too sure I would actually go thru with it. Well, my subconscious (thanks girl ) wasn't about to make the baby making decision consciously. So I think I got a little lax on the ol' mini pill without noticing.

As we jetted across seas and bumped over magnificent mountain ranges like Froto Baggins, I found my nausea just lingered. I thought it was too much wine, and that's why I was throwing up at the coffee shop on the way to Queenstown. But then I remembered that flicker I felt deep down, while laying on my back in yoga, right before we left for New Zealand.

The Saturday we got back to the states, I slipped away from the morning cartoons and coffee.

There it was. +. +. +. +. +.+. +.+.+.+.+ +. +. +. +. +.+. +.+.+.+.+ +. +. +. +. +.+. +.+.+.+.+

Take the war veteran back to Nam.

I was in complete shock. Waves of excitement. Pangs of panic. Smiles and tears. Panic. Panic.

Saenger just the biggest fucking smile, gah I love him.

What if I'm broken? What if I can't do it? What if I go back to that dark place?

My mission to have a VBAC (vaginal birth after c- section) this time around, was all consuming during the first trimester. Between throwing up and immobile exhaustion, I was a feen for knowledge, or even I hate to say a "cure". I had this feeling so deep, like I was a little girl that just wanted my mom to do it for me, like please! Can anyone birth this baby for me??? So I researched with blood, sweat and tears who my support team would be, I'm even still researching support (I'll share more in the weeks ahead).

But then, slowly...some shifts started happening.

Once the nausea subsided, I began to feel this immense creativity, a renewed ability to overcome my fears. I began to have a measure of peace in exploring and facing what all the different scenarios could be- not just the one I expected, or most want.

During pregnancy the honor of creating and carrying a life and that momentum of expansive growth within you for 40 weeks... just brings you to your knees. Once again, I am changed.

This blog is a culmination of my daughter. Stepping into sharing my designs and committing to create on that platform is inspiration from her. Sharing my voice and honest feelings is part of healing myself and also I hope somehow, helping others. This thing about fears is that they are specific and unique to each person, our gracious little creations. But we all have them. Sometimes just hearing some one else has fears, even if they don't mirror your own -gives you courage to shine a light on the What If monsters in your mind.

I want to share my prenatal journey, my fears, my doubts, the ways I've found support and strength. I want to share because there were women that shared their stories for me, women that gave me the knowledge that I wasn't alone in the dark. Women I found online, women I found in grocery stores, women that are my friends. And what I know about humans, is that we are creators and we are resilient to overcome any fear we create.

What if I'm whole? What if I'm powerful? What if I'm enough?

What If I'm Broken? A VBAC journey...