The First 40 Days
Today marks the 40th day since Oran and I traversed the birth realm together, and became two bodies and beings. 40 days since he stretched my pelvis and heart wide open, as we walked together across the threshold into human Mother and Son. 40 days since I became a Mother, and 40 days since he became my son.
In many ways, it feels like an absolute lifetime, every day a seeming never-ending spiral of flows and eddies, of tears and milk and love and laughter and chats and diapers and naps and more tears.
And in other ways, so much Life has moved through this body and home, that it seems inconceivable how much has occurred.
A couple of weeks ago, as we were passing the month mark, I had to confront several layers of deep grief in our breastfeeding journey (story for another day!). I came face to face with all of the stories I was carrying about what it means to be a good mother (which I felt I wasn’t fulfilling—anyone else out there?).
When I awoke the next morning, having defragmented and digested much of that grief, I saw, in my psychic vision, my guides showing me the phrase “NEW MOTHER.”
In that moment, I realized that my maidenhood and pregnancy was over, and that I was entering motherhood more deeply, but also that I was being invited to inhabit a particular chapter of Mother—NEW MOTHER.
And as someone who became a mother at 41, who very rarely anymore feels the intense vulnerability of doing something completely “new”—I realized where I was. Despite my age and wisdom in other areas, in this one, I was new. I was in the beginner’s mind, in the tender place just across maiden gates, learning to swim in the shallows, not the depths.
__
I am not an old mother, a seasoned mother, a wise mother (yet). I am a new mother. In this first 40 days, I have been becoming new.
This is a deeply tender and vulnerable place to be. New mothers are as uncertain and wobbly and needy and shaky as their new babies—learning to care properly for themselves and their new young while at the mercy of sleeplessness, hormonal dysregulation, floods of oxytocin and stress hormones (hello, red-faced screaming baby) and societal expectations (by the way, the holistic mommy influencers are as awful as the liberal working mother influencers and the. perfectly poised wealthy SAHM influencers).
I feel like that. I feel new. I feel raw and tender and uncertain. AND I feel clear and instinctive and primal and flooded with magic. I feel like something deep within me knows the way, and I also feel like I have no idea what I’m doing (that part is starting to fade).
In this first 40 days, while I adjusted to new motherhood and Oran adjusted to new baby-hood, we have had midwives and doulas and lactation consultants in the living room. We’ve had delicious meals and friends and grandparents come to wash our sheets and hold the baby so mama can shower. I’ve had friends peri-bottling my perineum with herbs and sitting with me when I felt afraid to poop (I see you, too).
In the first 40 days, we have learned poop, breastfeed, nap, swaddle, not swaddle – sleepsack, learn the different sounds for gas, hunger, lower gas, tired, and are now learning over-heated!
Oran and I have learned the dance of unity and separation-- in our hormonal cascades and sleeping schedules, while Richy and I have danced the dance of unity and separation through utter bliss at our creation, to the depths of rage and annoyance at each other’s and our own unmet needs.
We have learned to baby carry, to stroller, to suckle to sleep. We have learned that its easier to just bring Oran along into a flow rather than try to get him to nap SO we can flow (anyone up for chanting mantra while we practice tummy time?!) AND we’ve learned that sometimes, baby needs something, and everything else dissolves.
We have learned so much. I have cried out of unbelievable love, despair, rage, fight or flight, terror, grief, loss. And I am sure Oran has, too.
I am learning to be a Mother to a human baby. I am, too, like a baby. As new as Oran. And as this 40 day-threshold comes to a close, I honor exactly where we are. All we’ve learned, all we haven’t. All the mess, all the grace, all the support.
Today, in my era of new motherhood, I am taking down our birth altars, burning the blessingway candles all the way down, offering the maiden’s flower crowns to Earth.
Today, I will make an altar to the tender strength of all the new mothers, emerging from their caves, trusting the memory deep inside and the power of community, to grow them up, so their babies can thrive.
Deep gratitude goes to my beloved partner, Richy, who took Oran on an hour walk this morning so that I could write, in long-form for the first time since the birth. What a luxury and necessity —and what a journey it is to find new ways to do the old things again. I love you, baby.
