Day 34: Breathing through it

I was so nervous as I neared labor the first time.

Months and months before hand I had contractions.
Week after week they got stronger.
Soon they were distractingly strong.
Then, they were painful.
Then, they were so painful that I couldn't think about anything else.
As they grew in rhythm, I would watch the clock.
It took about 30 seconds to reach full strength and it would stay for about 2 minutes then recede for 30 seconds. At the height, I would begin to panic. Then pain so immense I feared I wouldn't get through. I had to breathe. I had to watch the clock and remember it would pass. Sometimes it would like 3 or 4 minutes and those extra seconds pushed me to a place of despair --

was it stuck?
would it never pass?
would the pain get worse as I headed into the birthing process?

Fear overwhelmed me.

Subsequent births, I didn't succumb to fear. I had learned how to do it. I learned how to breathe through the pain. I learned that however long it lasted, however hard it was, it would pass and birth would happen. I knew I could do it.

Last night, I awoke suddenly in the middle of the night.
I felt as if I were being attached by fire ants. My body itched with an agony that neared burning.
I clenched my teeth and I remembered lessons from labor. I breathed through it.
I found my calm. I ran cold water and slowly, slowly the itch passed.

A few days ago, the kids ran off the trail and through a patch of poison oak. I am particularly sensitive to the oils and immediately packed them up, stripped them, threw clothes and shoes directly into the washing machines and put everyone in the shower to scrub. Besides Andrew, the boys were spared rashes but as I didn't wash as quickly and had handled all the dirty clothes, I bore the brunt of exposure.

Rash between my fingers.
Under my knees.
Around my ankles.
Everywhere. I itch, everywhere.

And so, I've been thinking a lot about getting through. Breathing through the discomfort and letting myself find calm, knowing it will pass.

As I meditated on this post, I was inspired by the analogy.
We are all birthing a healing for our earth.
We've never done this before.
We don't know how long it will last.
If the pain will get worse.
What happens on the otherside.

But together, we are birthing deeper relationships with our children and spouses.
We are birthing a new culture that is more connected and collective than it has been in a long time.
We are birthing a pause in our consumer habits and giving the earth a moment to breathe.
We are collectively confronting mortality.

So I'm going to breath through bouts of itchiness and morning sickness
breath through dumped legos and temper tantrums
breath through rainy days
breath through empty shelves
breath though exhaustion
knowing they will last only moments and then they will pass.

All of us are breathing through this labor.
Breathing through crying children and messy floors
Breathing through moments of anxiety, loneliness and despair.
Breathing through economic hardship and worry.
Breathing through isolation.

This labor carves into my soul. Deepening my resilience and my gratitude. Deepening my faith and reliance on grace -- learning to let go and calmly breath through the uncertainty. Deepening my joy and my commitment to make the most of each of my days.

There is a joy on the other side of this. Sometimes, that joy is too far away to connect with. For now, it is enough just to breath through the seconds, minutes, hours and days. Present in the task of laboring and knowing I can get through. I just need to keep breathing.