Last night marked the completion of a six-week childbirth education class that my husband Jason and I took along with nine other couples at Birth Day Presence in Park Slope, Brooklyn.
The class attracted the same sect of people: couples who were looking to avoid having a cesarean birth, and who were in large part, earthy people who would like to bring their children into the world naturally. For the most part, the classes were beneficial — especially for my husband, who learned a lot and had an opportunity to connect with other dads-to-be about his hopes and fears.
Each week after class we’d get an email assignment from the instructor, Jada Shapiro, which typically entailed reading that we would then speak about in length in the following class. But in preparation for the last class moms-to-be received an email from Jada titled, “Final Assignment–Secret.”
The assignment was to create a “Birth Bundle” which had three objects in it. The first item should speak to the mother – a symbol that would signify the women in her family or community. The second item was to represent the energies of the father, either physically or spiritually, and the third item was one that would remind the mother of her love for her unborn child. And finally, we were to wrap the items in a piece of cloth or sack that had some significance and share the bundles with our partners and the other couples at the end of class. I knew when I was combing our apartment for the items that it was an emotional assignment, but nothing prepared me for just how emotional it would be until it came time to share my bundle last night.
I went second, following in the footsteps of a woman who shared three really beautiful and personal items from her bundle, but also managed not to cry. My first object in my birth bundle that was meaningful to me was my grandmother’s gold bracelet. She was a woman that owned jewelry from all over the world, and during her nine-month battle with pancreatic cancer I watched as she shed piece after piece, not having the heart or energy to wear it all anymore. But the one that remained until she died was this thick, gold, chain bracelet. I explained with shaky hands and a quivering voice that moments after she passed away in the living room of our home 10 years ago, my mom took the bracelet off her arm and put it on mine.
The second item was the stainless steel hardware that kept our dog’s bones in place for 10 months after undergoing her third major surgery. (I totally cracked right about here by the way). I tried with watery eyes to explain about our background in animal rescue, but then turned to my husband, holding this small but heavy piece of hardware that I stole off his desk and told him, “this is a testament to you and how incredibly steadfast and patient you were through her care: the weekly doctor appointments, the multiple surgeries, the infections…” and I wanted to say, but I’m not sure that I did, that I believe that those same qualities will shine through in his journey as a father.
The third object wasn’t so easy for me to come up with as I do not know this little human who is living inside me yet, but I chose the “tiny gPant” from gDiapers. I explained how the diaper represented our desire to be green and kind to the earth by not using disposable diapers. It was a cute note to end on as the tiny gPant, which will sit on the rumpus of our newborn until he/she grows into a “small,” is about the size of a small orange.
And finally, I explained the significance behind the cloth I wrapped all the items in: a piece from a section of an organic cotton, bone-colored scarf that I never wear. The cloth represents the organic and neutral color of the baby’s bedding, washcloths, burping cloths and cover-ups.
Well if the waterworks didn’t completely spill while I presented, they certainly did as we continued to go around the room! The brave woman sitting next to me shared a piece of rock from her bundle which she found on a writing retreat she went to in New Mexico. She said the rock, which had many facets, represented her and her partner’s long and very difficult journey to conceive.
Another woman, who lives one block away from us in our neighborhood and who I first met in prenatal yoga class at the YMCA, also added to the emotional night. She and her husband have been renovating their apartment and have spent the last trimester of her pregnancy displaced from their home and sleeping on an Aero Bed. She wasn’t able to create a bundle as a result of not being in her home, but she did take us through the items that would be in it had she been able to make one. It wasn’t so much the significance of the items but the fact that she is displaced, and missing out on this deep-seated need to nest while pregnant, that did it for me.
However personal, it was a nice exercise to share with our partners. And it turned out to be equally as nice to share something so personal with the other women and moms I have something in common with, and who are on their own unique and special journey through pregnancy.
