When a woman becomes a mother, she loses herself a little. It’s not something you’re told openly because it’s embarrassing to admit it. It’s even more embarrassing in my Italian society, where ‘la Mamma’ is just a strong authority figure who cannot openly show her vulnerability or weakness.
The new mother partially loses her identity because she needs room for her new maternal role to manifest itself. She sets aside selfishness and fear to embrace unconditional love for her child amidst a thousand routines of care and nursing (which can sometimes be burdensome and boring, let’s be honest!).
Few have the courage to tell you that motherhood is not only light, love and vibrant energy. It is not always butterflies in the stomach and flowery meadows. It is also silent shadows, labours, dark circles, wrinkles, guilty dynamics, and sacrifices. Because there are not only the physical pains of giving birth, but also the emotional ones of becoming a mother. It’s a continuous, exhilarating journey of setting aside, letting go, embracing and getting back up. The new mother’s identity slowly rebuilds itself and comes back stronger and more intense than before.
Almost two years ago, the famous contractions of my labor started. My daughter’s cosmic journey to land on Earth lasted almost 2 days. She made herself wanted! She even protected me by allowing my body to open up and make room with restorative pauses between contractions.
I enjoyed the slowness of opening the way through, of digesting and integrating every fragment and drop of sweat during my intense and sweet childbirth. I was prepared, but no woman is ever really prepared for such a powerful miracle.
I danced with my daughter in my womb for almost two days while I kept telling her we were ready to welcome her. I vocalized, moved freely, ate, laughed, cried, did yoga, chanted, meditated, and squeezed my partner’s hands (who decorated the delivery room with incense, lights, pictures, stones, and precious symbols).
My voice saved me. It wasn’t a melodious carnatic song like Leboyer’s popularized Birth Without Violence. My voice was raw and fierce; it gave me an incredible ancestral strength. It must have been heard all the way from the German canton of Switzerland, even though we were in the Italian canton!
The midwife said that our daughter was as strong as me and that she was moving well, collaborating alongside my body throughout the labour journey. We enjoyed every single moment of this sailing together, every single breath and push, each moment of calm and furious wave. I still remember my inner voice guiding me through the process: “breathe it in, gather energy and then go. Breathe it out. Push with all the force of the universe, ride that wave!” My older sister encouraged me during my labour journey by saying: “You are greater and stronger than this pain.” At certain moments, I felt like one of the indigenous Waorani women I met while volunteering as a teacher in the Ecuadorian Amazon rainforest four years ago – so indomitable and fierce.
I wanted to give up at times, but I kept going. The roar of the lioness within me was stronger than anything. That roar was with me all the way through the whole birthing dance! I wanted to see our daughter’s little face so badly. I wanted to cross the transcendental boundary: life-death-birth.
Happily, while playing the yogic song Sa-Ta-Nam (Blessings for a New World) at the final moment, on the night of 15 August 2021, she jumped out and cried for the first time. I shouted “Vittoria, vi voglio bene a tutti” (Victory, I love you all!”) to all the delivery room staff. My daughter was already wide-eyed and curled up on my chest.
Despite the physical pain of our birth process, I carry with me wonderful images and no lacerations in my physical and emotional memory. However, I have recently recovered from a hard postpartum, as I experienced those famous baby blues moments and other health unbalances. I was able to rise over my fragmented version after my post-delivery. There are still several taboos about childbirth and postpartum. Let’s unmask them and give more loving care and support to women, goddesses who have generated life.
Women are wired to give and nourish cyclically. We also need to be properly nourished. If I nourish better myself, I will become a better parent and servant of peace in my family, which is the first rung on the ladder of the whole society.
Our children are miracles, spiritual beings who come through us. They are the hand by which we take hold of heaven. That’s why I’m embracing conscious parenting and raising my daughter following the positive discipline and Montessori-inspired pedagogy. That’s why I love sharing and teaching yoga to her and other kids. They embody the holistic, raw, natural energy of the Universe and are aligned with the yogic ancient roots.
Our kids are not a burden that holds us back; they are a unique source of inspiration that pushes us to thrive and rise above our challenges. Motherhood empowers you as an instrument of self-fulfillment and spiritual evolution. While I am not the same woman I was before I became a mother, the journey with my daughter has made me stronger, more mindful and creative, while deepening my spiritual connection with the Universe.
