I'm so tired of hearing about ECing. I actually realized today that I avoid discussing how much I love my cloth diapers because I'm afraid of hearing the loud chorus of confident "advertisors" for ECing. Okay, maybe not afraid, but perhaps not interested in that much negative energy being flung my way, perhaps?
Maybe this is the way disposable diapering moms feel. Like, please fuck off, cloth diapering mothers, I don't want any reminders of how I'm spoiling the planet and poisoning my child, or to have one more person tell me how easy it is to wash stinky, disgusting diapers.
Interesting, eh? Now, I know I've been guilty of thrusting my views on people and they've probably suffered much indignation as a result. Just today I realized that all my pro-breastfeeding talks left some clients with the idea that I'd judge them for their decision to supplement with formula. I support them 100% (and please no comments, you don't know the story), but I am sad that they worried I'd tell them they were making bad choices, or judge them. I know I come across too harsh sometimes, and I apologize. Going forward I'm going to try to make sure that what I discuss resonates with me and that I share it in a way that enlightens and empowers people. So with that, I come to yet another statement on birth, the biggest calling of my life. I love, respect, adore it and want to know more about it. I realize it is a mystery, and probably always will be because:
It is the stuff of magic, those early months of silence. You know this child exists, but it seems such a long way off as to nearly not exist at all. Then you feel the stretch of your belly and little squirms are known to secret places within you. And on it goes. Until the day your baby comes through into this world from the only world he or she has ever known. THAT day is of utter importance. It is a day of thunder and festivals and the greatest of joys. A day of dropping to your knees in submission and awe. A raw, bright, fiery gentle day. For your baby, it is a day of squeezes and breezes and an explosion of sound, light and space. It is the first time your child loses his physical tether to you, and relies entirely on your emotional connection. A hard vulnerable lovely day. Though the logical brain in me analyzes, catalogues and evaluates, births make me weep. And so I plea with passion. Because I must. Someone is listening.