Birthing a Sex Goddess
Nothing can prepare you
for how profoundly you change after carrying another person inside of you. While expecting my son, I saw the excruciating pain I’d been warned to expect during my birth experience as something akin to an initiation ritual. A way to demonstrate to my unborn child that he’d done well to choose me as his guardian. I imagined birth the way ancient gladiators imagined battle – as a proving ground of my strength, determination and willingness to go the distance for something I’d sworn my life to.
Anything my experience of childbirth had to offer me
was to be taken as collateral and proof of my worthiness to be the portal through which another divine being entered this life. For him, I would make sacrifices, be anything and make the impossible possible. With me as his mother, he’d always have shelter and safety in a dangerous, confusing and scary world. These were the promises I whispered like prayers as my due date approached.
So, it was while giving birth to my son that I took the first steps on a journey towards recognizing, claiming and celebrating my own power. Attached to monitors and IVs and clad in nothing more than a hospital gown, I silently breathed through waves of pain as I ascended into my place as a Goddess.
Though, when I look back to the very beginnings of my pregnancy, the signs of my ascension appear like markers on a road I continue to tread. Pregnancy itself offered a reprieve from the body shame and impossible beauty standards I’d come to accept as normal. And becoming a mother freed me of fear.
Body Positivity
All my life, I’ve been relatively fit, but for just as long, I’ve seen my body through a self-conscious media-distorted lens. The funny thing about pregnancy hormones, though, is they don’t just affect the softness of your joints and your food cravings. They also alter the way you see the world, and from the moment my body began to ripen into the softness of pregnancy, I saw things differently.
The roundness that formed at the base of my belly was the most beautiful, purposeful thing I’d ever witnessed my body do. My breasts swelled like ripe, juicy fruit.
In pregnancy, I existed outside of the social expectations I’d previously felt trapped under. In a pregnant body, I felt invisible to the judgment placed on non-pregnant people for how much we eat, how much rest we need, or how our clothes fit. There were fewer unattainable media portrayals of how my pregnant body should look, so I had space to create my own definition of beauty in relation to my growing form.
Loss of Sexual Shame
I spoke openly and honestly about my sexual desires – even in polite company – while pregnant. No one is surprised to hear that a pregnant person likes sex, so I took full advantage of what felt like a pass from slut shaming.
“Of course, I like sex,” I’d say, “how do you think I got pregnant in the first place?”
My changing body also necessitated trying new things in bed. My husband had always done well with focusing on my pleasure, comfort and safety, but this was new… This was “me first” in a way I’d never felt free to ask for, let alone explore.
That’s the beautifully tricky thing about freedom, though. Once you’ve experienced what truly feels right for you, it’s hard to go back.
Photos by Marina Green Photography
Belief in My Power
After giving birth, my determination to do impossible things for my child began to bleed into other parts of my life. Some time after my doctor cleared me to begin exercise again, I found myself on a jog while listening to Fall Out Boy.
In my ears the lyrics rang, “If I can live through this, I can do anything”, and somewhere within my chest I felt the first gentle flutter of an audacious idea gestating within me.
Silently, I pumped my fist in agreement to a new vow of strength and fearlessness – this one for myself. If I could face down impossible pain for my future, I could do the same for my present.