A Labyrinth: a complicated irregular network of passages or paths in which it is difficult to find one's way; a maze.
My baby turned 5 months old this week. I’ve mostly been quiet during this time, only sharing a few photos and moments with the rest of the world. I haven’t felt called to share much until now because of lack of time, and the inability to think clearly because of such an irregular sleep schedule, but also because it has felt like I’ve been in a metamorphosis, and I’ve still been in the cocoon being transformed, not yet ready to spread my wings.
I had a moment around three months postpartum where I started to go back to work. I thought I would only need three months of postpartum time and then I could go back to the regular schedule I had before becoming a mom.
People said 3 months was the end of the 4th trimester, and was about double the amount of time many new moms get off from their jobs.
The only thing was, just as I started to find a rhythm with our night times, Ella began a 3-4 month sleep regression, and my night time wake ups went back to 1-2 hours in the night.
Then the insomnia began.
I would just be drifting off back to sleep when I would be woken up again to care and soothe her. Ella would then fall back asleep, and as I tried to, my mind would begin racing, and I couldn’t.
There were several nights in a row where I laid in bed awake for 4 or more hours at a time, while my baby slept. Sleep deprivation began to compound with anxiety as I wondered how I would manage to get through the next day, especially now that I had calls on the calendar where I was expecting myself to be clear, awake, and ready to hold space for others.
It was too much too soon.
That week I had a call with a friend and mentor. A mother herself, she shared, “You just can’t compare your pre-motherhood self to who you are now. Just as Ella is discovering the world and who she is for the first time, so are you. You’re a different person, and you just can’t compare how things are now to what they were before.”
I had no choice but to surrender.
I blocked off my calendar. I delayed the start date of my next program. I let go of welcoming new clients beyond the ones I was already working with.
And I felt really defeated, and sad.
I am someone who deeply loves my work, and my autonomy as a business owner. There was a part of me that was really ready to go back to it. I wanted to recover that sense of self and identity, beyond being a new mother.
But everything around me was saying, it’s just not yet time.
Months ago I was in a birth class, and our teacher used the metaphor of birth as a labyrinth.
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I pictured myself walking through the maze and meeting my baby at the center, joyfully walking back out and meeting the world.
But it’s been more meandering than that. More confusing. More slow, with unexpected corners and opportunities to turn around and start again.
From the first moment of holding my baby until a few weeks ago, I feel like I was still lost in the center of the labyrinth.
I am just starting to find my way back out, and I am walking out in many ways, a different person.
When I began this journey, I didn’t quite know what I would be leaving behind, or what I would gain.
I remember at the end of our birth class our teacher shared about the Sumerian goddess Inanna, the goddess of love, beauty, fertility, war, and wisdom.
She was considered a Queen of Heaven, but at some point felt a calling to go to the underworld to meet her sister, the Queen of the Underworld.
There were seven gates she had to pass as she journeyed deeper down, and at each gate she needed to leave something behind. Little by little she needed to offer up her crown, her scepter, her breast plate, and on and on until she found herself naked, completely stripped down.
It was then that she was ordered to be killed by Ereshkigal, her sister. She journeyed into the underworld and had to face death… eventually, to be rebirthed.
One of her mystical servants from above went down after she was killed, and was able to bring her back to life. Slowly she regained what she had lost and was rebirthed as the Queen of Heaven, with a completely different perspective.
I didn’t quite know that stepping into that labyrinth I would slowly let go of the things I loved. I didn’t quite know what it would be like to offer up my crown and my scepter - to let go of personal space, alone time, and sleep. To offer up sharing a bed with my partner, my libido, all the money I had saved for maternity leave, my work, and the identity I had formed along with it. To have no energy to see friends, or really to do anything besides sleep, eat, bathe or care for my baby.
It was hard. My ego resisted it.
Until there was nothing I could do but cry for what was lost. Many times I found myself in a state of tiredness, grieving it all.
In one of those hard moments, after texting a few close girlfriends asking for their prayers, I chose to accept what was. I was beginning to see how quickly my daughter was changing, how much she was growing from week to week, and I found it within myself to really let go of what was to embrace the present moment.
It was then that I began to see all that I had gained…
Sharing life with another being, the opportunity to witness her discover the world. The preciousness of how little she is, the sweetness of nighttime cuddles and the joy and love of just being together.
My love for her grew stronger the more present I became.
I began to relish the simple moments of experiencing and discovering the world together, both as new beings…
After a few months of this embrace, I’ve found myself taking my first steps out of the labyrinth.
For a week now we’ve been (mostly) sleeping through the night. I find myself next to my partner in bed again. I’m rediscovering alone time as her naps begin to lengthen.
I’m recommitting to my yoga practice. I’m taking cold plunges and nature walks as much as I have energy for. I’m hiring a nanny to return to this work I love. I’m writing again. We're moving back to familiar lands on the coast of California. We even booked a trip to Hawaii to share with Ella later this Fall.
All the things I know and love are slowly returning. Everything I thought I was giving up forever is coming back, as I walk back out of the labyrinth, out of the underworld of new motherhood.
But it looks and feels different.
Everything is a little shinier as I’m experiencing deeper appreciation, and humility. I see the preciousness of an hour of alone time. I savor the moments of being able to witness someone else’s transformation as I hold space. I feel deep gratitude to have time to reflect on my learnings and write them down. I cherish how I feel after a long nap, or a long stretch of sleep through the night. I hold my beloved close as we lay down to sleep, being fully present to the preciousness of this time together.
There’s not a moment now where I take these things for granted.
I recognize my privilege in even being able to regain some of these lost parts of myself through this journey, and how for so many, so much is lost and not regained. I see the sacrifice so many go through to bring in these little beings. I honor each and every woman and family for it.
And I rest in gratitude for this new chapter. For the year ahead, and all the new discoveries that will be made. For all the unknown corners and opportunities to get lost, to lose and find myself again…
Until my next stretch of alone time…
With love,
Meredith
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