Holding The Tension of the Opposites

Big virtual event

on the phone

and web
 
for birth visionaries happening one week from today.

Really?

I didn’t notice.

All I have noticed these days is that

A.  My phone line doesn’t work

and hasn’t worked normally since a July storm

knocked over practically every tree in the neighborhood.

And

B.  My youngest son got Lyme Disease a week ago

and he’s been playing a game called

Make Your Mother Very Very Nervous

with high fevers and related Lyme complications.

What’s a visionary to do?

If you feel the 

urgency

like I do

about changing the culture of birth

or 

Passion

for changing ANYTHING

then you might have a read on what I’m thinking.

No, it's not

I. Am. Seriously. Fucked.

I know that

no phone line,

a sick son,

and producing a virtual event

for 1,000 birth visionaries

around the world

in one week

doesn’t add up to humanly possible.

But today

after taking a nap

(yes, a yoga nidra nap ;)

I woke up

to an

I’ve got this

attitude.

What turned it around?

Well, several years ago when my visionary light was practically

extinguished

I went to see a woman named

Linda.

After rattling off a list of complaints about my

life

a mile long

she said to me:

Karen, sounds like you’re

Holding the Tension of the Opposites.

Huh?

Turns out

Holding The Tension of The Opposites

was coined by a pretty groovy guy name Jung.

Yes, Carl Jung.

Jung offered this "hold it" advice 

to people

who are faced with grave problems

and at an impasse.

I think I qualify this week.

Jung writes,

“I have learned that all

the greatest and most important problems of life

are fundamentally insoluble....

They can never be solved, but only outgrown.”

As I head into the week before

BOLD’s September 5^th

virtual gathering

of the most birth visionaries

EVER in one day,

with my man Jung’s encouragement

I

Hold the Tension of the Opposites.

That’s what visionaries do.

We keep the light on.

We hold

what is.

We dream.

We wait for the impasse

in our lives

to move on.

It always does.

We let the fundamentally unsolvable

outgrow itself.

We 

Keep Going.

And in a world of being BOLD

about birth

On September 5^th we

Gather

Inspire

Vision

Breathe

Laugh

And

(yes) nap

together

in the name of

Taking Action

because we want 

birth to be

more RIGHT than WRONG.

If you’re not registered

for September 5

do it

Now.

Tell other birth visionaries to

Sign up.

I know we have a lot on our

plates.

Change makers are

busy people.

Let’s hold

The Tension of the Opposites

as a community

of passionate people

making

urgent plans

for an

optimal future.

Let’s do this.

Leave a message

below

to share what you've

held

past or present

and tips on

how you

moved out of the impasse. 

See you September 5.

(and please say a prayer

for my phone line :).

You Don't Want To Miss This

OMBOLDness!

Imagine this:

One Day.

16 Birth Visionaries.

Amazing storytelling, actionable tools, up front and personal interaction with

Ina May Gaskin

Dr. Christianne Northrup

....and so many more!

If you care about making maternity care the best it can be

register now for this event.

It all happens September 5th.

And it's gonna rock.

Promise. :)

A Poem for World Breastfeeding Week

Got the urge to share this poem that I wrote about breastfeeding my first son. It was written about six weeks after he was born.

I'll never forget that time.

 

I'd love to hear about your breastfeeding moments in the comments section below.

And now, the poem...

 

NIGHT LIFE

Sucking at my nipple

I see the darkness of night,

My new,

intimate partner.

I resist.

Will my life ever be normal again?

I resist.

The dark silence rocks my world.

I resist.

My baby cries out for milk

as I fumble my left hand into a “C” shape,

trying desperately to latch him on.

I resist.

Can I meet your needs, my precious miracle,

when my head feels heavy

and my eyes think they should be shut?

I resist.

When will you sleep through the night?

I resist.

Where is the cream for your bottom?

I resist.

You cry and I don’t know what you need.

A funny thing happened

after you slid out of me on June 6 at 5.34pm.

I changed.

What was

no longer is.

You are here.

Aliens took me to this new planet.

I’m scared.

Am I your mother?

I search for the maternal instinct.

Yet

you lay in bed,

between me and your daddy,

and

I haven’t a clue where you came from.

Give me a sign.

Show me something familiar.

Tell me I’m doing okay.

It’s Day Two

and I’ve convinced myself that I’m your babysitter.

Must be the hormones.

Mommy will be here any moment.

I wonder if you hear me when I cry?

Remember my labor mantra:

I CAN DO IT!

I search for a bonding moment.

Will it be at the changing table?

In bed?

When I dance you around the living room

to your favorite Latin tunes?

No, it’s the night.

The night is ours.

You cry,

I respond

pushing you close to my chest.

You search for my breast.

I relax

into the tingling let-down sensation.

Your body cramps.

Oops,

a gas bubble.

In the silence of the night

your ear twitches

and

I fall more deeply in love.

Resistance fades.

Night becomes our friend.

Our secret meetings.

Your milky face

pulls off my nipple.

I delight in your

intoxication.

Then,

a burp please.

Sitting in the glider

patting your back

trying to encourage the air to release

I am lost in thought.

Wondering.

When you’re older

will you still feel how my heart pours out love to you?

will your ears twitch when you swallow?

will you remember our night life?

I will never forget.

summer 1999

Karen Brody