I guess my earlier posts are best described as ‘birth stories’. What I want to write about this time is labour itself, which, to be honest, feels a bit taboo.
Sharing birth stories also felt somewhat taboo to me in the sense that I had three positive stories to share and I did not want to appear to be gloating (I sincerely hope that it did not come across that way).
However, writing in more detail about my personal experience of labour feels even more taboo in the sense that, in my circles at least, there seems to be a general yet unspoken rule that your labour is personal and private. Or maybe thats just me interpreting things weirdly?!
Anyhow, as I explained in the introduction to this series, I don’t think its helpful in the long run to keep positive birth stories out of view (so to speak). So today I’m writing about my experience of labour. Read along if you’re interested in a more intimate retelling of a first labour that went really, really well.
* This is the first post of a new four-part series. Essentially, a reader suggested years ago that I might write my birth stories. I thought that was a cool, if not slightly intimidating idea, but I wasn’t sure quite how to go about it. In the end, I’ve settled on writing each story as a letter to each child, which, I hope (!) they might enjoy reading when they are older.
However, it then then it occurred to me that it seemed strange to write birth stories without writing something about the main event that preceded these birth stories and made them possible in the first place. And so I’ve added a short reflection on the day of our marriage. All in all, in writing these posts, I wanted to honour the events of my life that have in essence created a new family.
** Just a reminder – these are birth stories, so consider yourself fairly warned!!