What it means to have a child–and what an opportunity
for growth it is!
Eyes of steely blue…
She looks up at me with steely blue, quizzical eyes, and starts
to suckle for the first time. She’s so beautiful, a
tiny little square body, all folded up, like an oven-ready
chicken at the supermarket. Her tiny feet are blue –
the blood is just starting to course through her body with
her first breaths, and her face is becoming pink. Finally,
we are together, after nine months of waiting.
These are the first precious moments of our daughter Cahya,
and perhaps the most precious moment of my life, too.
Nothing can describe the love that a mother has for her child;
nothing can surpass it or even begin to tell you its depth
and power. It is only since giving birth myself that I have
really realised how much my own mother loves me, and also,
what a gift a mother is.
It was a strange birth, especially by Bali standards (where
women are shunted on a production line, pumped with drugs,
routinely cut open, and this miraculous and sacred process
is really not allowed to unfold naturally at all.) We decided
to have a home birth in our place at Tebesaya, Ubud. We were
staying in a great, open plan hall of a house, eight sided,
perfect Feng Shui. Big beanbags, lots of space, private and
quiet, ideal for a birth, really.
I do find it bizarre the places that some women are expected
to give birth. Narrow, high, single iron hospital beds! I
looked at them and was like, yes, and where am I supposed
to give birth! And as for the idea of moving from the birth
suite to another ‘delivery room’ for the final
birth – well that is completely preposterous! I have
never heard of such a ludicrous idea. It’s rather like
suggesting that during sex, you move to a different room for
orgasm – not exactly adding flow to the process is it!
Anyway, my husband Putu, in his usual extraordinary way,
agreed to my home birth plans, which were really ‘luar
biasa’ (‘far out’) by Bali standards, where
everyone just goes to hospital. He set himself to work, building
a birthing pool from bamboo and tarpaulin (it worked very
well and even caused the necessary and mythical task of ‘boiling
lots of water’ for a birth, which was nice). Shortly
before the birth he arrived proudly with the ceremonial coconut
container and small offerings that would be used for the ‘ari
ari’ or afterbirth.
The Balinese believe in a very strong link between the afterbirth
and the baby. They believe the afterbirth contains the ‘little
sister’ of the baby – something like the ‘four
humours’ from ancient English medieval beliefs, actually
– air, earth, fire and water. The afterbirth is placed
in the coconut and buried by the front door. Flower offerings
are placed there for a month after the birth and then a stone
is put on top of the space. Every time the child leaves the
house, earth is touched near the stone and touched to the
child’s forehead. In this way she ‘takes leave’
of her little sister.
Weaving this local belief into our birth story was easy for
me – Putu had the main adjusting to do, as he felt a
lot of responsibility of course for me and was worried that
something might go wrong with what was for him and his culture,
quite an outlandish plan.
Our midwife, Debra, arrived from America some days before
the birth. Practical and down to earth, she inspired confidence
and was a great birth partner. (We also had a link arranged
to the best local obstetrician, and transport ready.)
Birth, it seems funny to need to say it, is ‘a girl
thing’! It involves a lot of patience and waiting (the
actual birth itself I mean). It is a natural process that
usually will complete successfully in its own good time. ‘Guy
energy’ – ie the normal and natural desire of
men to ‘do something’ – to be active rather
than receptive – to take control - is really at odds
with this ‘waiting game’. Modern medicine is very
much in this masculine, controlling realm, and is just not
the compatible kind of energy for birth. Of course I acknowledge
the occasional need for quick intervention. What I’m
saying is that the male-oriented attitude makes this more
likely, sooner, and in more cases. And once intervention happens,
the mother sadly loses control.
I was very lucky to have about six women friends present
at the birth and supporting me at various times. Four loving
friends surrounded me when Cahya finally came (on the video
you can see us chatting and joking between contractions).
This support was invaluable and so empowering.
It surprises me that I have never found any description of
what birth is actually like. Anywhere! And nobody explains
what it means from a metaphysical viewpoint, so I shall try
to do that here.
Everyone goes on about ‘pain control’ and obsesses
over what drugs to use, but sorry, they are missing the point!
The most important thing in my view is not ‘pain control’
but ‘fear control’. Giving birth feels very like
being on an ocean or in a big sea. Every so often, a big wave
of sensation rolls over you. Just like swimming, it doesn’t
hurt being in the water, as long as you remember to breathe,
relax, and don’t tense up and get scared. Roll with
the waves – don’t panic, or you could go under
and drown, just as in a real sea! The actual feeling is a
bit like orgasm with a kind of wiggly tickley electric charge
thrown in. Sorry that’s the best I can do to describe
it! But it doesn’t hurt.
Debra, our midwife, kept up a wonderful tirade of ‘saying
nice things’ like ‘the baby doesn’t want
to hurt you’, ‘it’s safe to give birth’
and ‘it doesn’t have to be for you like it was
for your mother’ and things like that. This made a vast
difference to me. When Debra wandered off for a moment to
supervise the birth pool, and I was left alone without this
support, I found myself gazing into a vast dark abyss of fear
– and I knew very well that that was where the pain
was too. So I quickly called her back ‘Debra! Come back
and say ‘nice things!’ So she did and I was fine.
I have great resources, a lot of yoga training which helps
enormously with breathing and staying centred. Yet I could
see clearly how I could have very easily lost it, stopped
flowing with the process and started resisting and therefore
feeling fear and hence pain. You MUST say ‘yes ‘to
the process.
Birth is a truly ‘cosmic’ experience. It is an
intense moment of coming together of karma for both mother
and baby. The way in which the birth happens is largely down
to the karma of the baby. The soul of the baby chooses how
and when to come. Birth is probably the most vulnerable and
lonely time of a woman’s life (however good the support
she has). The North American Indians believe that a woman
journeys alone to the land of souls to pick up the soul of
her baby and bring it back, and it certainly felt like that
to me. A different state of consciousness is entered. A song
I wrote, ‘The Journey’ aims to capture that feeling,
and is reproduced here.
The Journey
I travelled to the land of snows
How you get there no-one knows
It’s cold and white and no grass grows
I brought you back with me.
It’s long and lonely in my coat
Reindeer fur and boots of goat
But I crossed over and this I wrote
I brought you back with me
I arrived tired and you were lying there
Naked on a bed of fur
I picked you up and held you here
I brought you back with me
I called your name and you awoke
Piercing eyes like steely smoke
You cried to me and something broke
I brought you back with me
It’s a lonely journey in the night
But somehow all is filled with light
You’re my tiny firebright
You light my home for me.
I was able to ‘channel’ information from Cahya
before she was born. It was great to have this connection!
I asked her to make the birth easy and she said ‘she’d
do her best as far as she could’. During the birth,
she told me she’d come at twelve o’clock. I thought
this was to be in a couple of hours time (it was ten o’clock
at night) but it turned out to be fourteen hours later (she
was born at 11:59!) People also talk about birth in terms
of ‘how many hours’ it lasts (the implication
being that it’s awful if it’s long – I suppose
because everyone believes it’s painful). It was fine
for me that Cahya took quite a long time – only a day
to get a new life into the world doesn’t seem so long
to me!
The baby also told me of her previous life, as a male teacher
of calligraphy on the border of China and Tibet. She certainly
has a great affinity with drawing, and has always made calligraphic
writing type squiggles from the moment she first picked up
a pen! If you’ re pregnant, and want to try connecting
with your baby, sit with pen and paper, relax and ask a question
inwardly of the baby (it’s fun to let your partner ask
the questions) and just write down the first answer than comes.
After the birth, we were all completely exhausted. I have
a photo of Putu stretched out, stiff as a board, clutching
a broom from sweeping the floor, just zonked. He’s smothered
in white ‘boré ’ – rice ground with
deliciously fragrant flowers and mixed with water and put
on the skin (a local remedy for the horrendous chickenpox
blisters). He looks like a skinny deranged aborigine ghost!
I wasn’t much better – so tired – I hadn’t
realised what a massive physical impact birth has. In the
days after the birth, the body releases litres and litres
of excess water through the urine and does a huge adjustment
process. There’s a need to rest and on top of this,
the new baby is in the bed and needs feeding, changing and
constant attention! Giving birth is chickenfeed compared to
the energy and time needed for caring for a child.
The three weeks after the birth though were a lyrical time
turnaround between sleeping, washing nappies, listening to
Robbie Williams, feeding, eating, sleeping, just watching
the tropical garden outside, washing nappies… Getting
to know each other and hanging out together were really nice
luxuries.
And really, this has continued up to now. Having a child
is a constant and never ending wheel of things that must be
done (and done NOW!)
You may have heard the quote ‘children give you patience’.
I would like to change it to read ‘children give you
patience…because they can be the most incredibly annoying
beings on the planet!’ They quite naturally have no
respect for your time boundaries, priorities or ideas! They
need you and they always need you NOW!!! (At times I find
myself just wishing I could go to the bathroom in peace without
hearing ‘MummmmEEEEEE!’ coming at me through the
door!) Though, as any parent will tell you, I wouldn’t
change it for the world. Nothing can compare with the joy
of your child bringing you a flower for the first time, or
saying ‘thank-you’ or giving you a great beaming
smile or a hug. I’ve had to learn to let go of my priorities
and try to focus on hers. (With varying success – the
other ‘given’ quality of the parent seems to be
that of guilt!).
The main thing I want for our child is give her a strong
sense of self-esteem. So, we don’t make her ‘wrong’
if she makes a mistake. We don’t yell at her, criticise
her or hit her (this was normal practise in Western upbringing
when I was a child). We certainly don’t give her negative
inputs like ‘you’re stupid!’ etc. We often
praise and encourage her. And we listen to what she wants
(however idiosyncratic!) and allow it if possible.
Boundaries are challenging though – how do you control
a screaming two year old – set the boundary, not give
in, yet try to minimise the size of the ensuing drama? I find
this very difficult. The only answer I have so far is ‘distraction!’
Give the message then change the subject so it doesn’t
become too big a thing. I’m still working on this one!
The relationship with one’s child seems to magnify anything
that is already difficult (giving great opportunity for practise!)
The other ‘given’ of being a parent, of course,
is knowing that you can only do your best, and you are bound
to do some things wrong.
Perhaps the biggest thing I’ve learned from joining
the parent clan is just how difficult it is even to provide
the basic things like a nice place to live, clean clothes,
good food on the table, time and attention – just this
takes a huge amount of energy, never mind anything ‘intangible’
like love, support, a sense of self-worth... I now have much
greater appreciation and gratitude for own parents –
they did their best in difficult circumstances. I have really
let go of blaming them for anything disagreeable that happened
when I was a child, and this feels like a great freedom.
If you are already a parent, salut! If you are planning to
become one, congratulations – it’s one of the
greatest journeys there is. And if you’re not in this
realm, I hope you’ll enjoy opportunities that come your
way for spending time with children.
NEXT ISSUE: Creative Visualisation – amazing dreamlike
journeys to the true inner ‘you’.
Jeli Lala created the ‘Ashram of Spiritual Jewellery
and Art’ at no. 1, Sukma St., Tebesaya, Ubud, with her
husband, Putu S. She has studied yoga and many other spiritual
practices for more than ten years. She writes “As a
life-long artist, I’ve been exploring my inner world
since I was a child. In this column, I will share some of
my personal experiences and spiritual methods – hopefully,
you’ll find this interesting, and maybe it will give
some ideas for your own journey”.
Jeli welcomes comments and may be contacted on:
Email: jelila@jelila.com
Website: www.jelila.com or www.imagine-retreats.com
