I am being invited into remembrances of parenting and embodiment in multiple ways at this stage in my journey. It is a beautiful and peaceful place to be called into. The ways that I have moved into embodiment throughout my parenting journey has had so many iterations and growth points. There is deep resonance and gratitude for the ways that parenting has allowed me to get to know myself deeper.
Last week, I had the pleasure of attending Prentis Hemphill’s book release event at Seattle Public Library. An audience member asked “what has changed for you about the ways you experience embodiment since becoming a parent?” and Prentis answered, “I have become less of an individual. It has changed the parameters of my own being.” Prentis went on to talk about the ways that listening is a fundamental element when raising a child. When we turn away from the ways that a child communicates needs to us (verbal or non-verbal) we teach that child that there needs don’t matter. My inner child cried out in this moment. It struck deep into a core wound that I have been healing for years. I struggle to name needs and when I do, I often name them with such downplay that they aren’t heard as needs. Thankfully, I have many friends and beloveds who know this and actively hold these parts of me with grace and love. These relationships are allowing me to do deep healing work that may not otherwise exist in my life. This is one part of body autonomy that is new to me. Having, naming, and knowing that my needs matter.
My body has belonged to someone else for most of my life. I was a child, of a single mother. I had a father who was intermittently in the picture. The ways that each of my parents let me know that my body didn’t reflect what they wanted from me were consistent. Sometimes subtle and sometimes overt. I knew I was queer but I didn’t have the language for it in the 90’s in Reno, Nevada. I moved to Charlotte, North Carolina after graduating high school (my first act of body autonomy)…I immediately found a boyfriend and we moved in together within 3 months of knowing each other. We got a dog and I decided I wanted to move back to Reno. He came along. A month later I was pregnant. Did my body ever have a chance to be just mine?
I loved being pregnant. I took care of myself. I learned my limits and I named them. I took my breaks at work and slept and ate. I was almost 2 weeks over my due date. I was induced. 21 hours later the baby was in distress and and I underwent an emergency c-section. I was told I couldn’t hold my baby because I risked dropping them due to the drugs…This story goes on and on…fast forward and we are at home. I am healing, breast feeding, caring for this beautiful and vulnerable little being. I was so in love that I didn’t pay attention to my needs anymore. I treated my own body as a commodity made to house this precious soul and was now just a vessel to feed and be in attendance. It was alomist 12 years before I ever thought about how the birth affected me.
I did therapy to talk through the birth story. I did scar tissue release work to work through the trauma stored in the scar. I worked with healers of many types to release the pain and fear of a 19 year-old who went through a medical crisis and was sent home with little information for my own healing care. I launched my baby into adulthood, jobs, apartments, autonomy…and I eventually offered the same to myself.
I had top surgery. My body became mine. I was protective and excited. I showed everyone and beamed with pride at the body that was finally mine. My time became my own. No dating, no partners. My time was mine. My decisions were mine. I guarded this so fiercely…I still do. As I learn to move through the world as someone with an adult child, a trans body, a queer soul, and a powerful heart I am reminded every day that this took years of learning. This took a lot of effort and finally it took total surrender. I had to listen to my deepest fears, desires, and needs to be able to find the introduction to my body autonomy.