Diana connected with me through The Birth Hour group on facebook. We both have had the opportunity to share our stories through the podcast and when I introduced my website in the group she emailed me right away. She originally wanted to tell the story of her traumatic birth with her first born, but in writing it, it became more about her second birth and how it healed her. It's such a beautifully written post and it makes my heart smile thinking of how this experience helped her through one of the hardest moments of her life. If you want to listen to Diana telling her birth stories you can find them here
When I saw the positive pregnancy test, I uttered to myself, alone in the cold bathroom, no.
No, no, no.
I was so scared.
It wasn't that I didn’t love you. Little Person, I didn’t even know who you were, nor had I planned
to Mother another child again, but I unequivocally did love you.
It was that my body and spirit bore terrible scars that were unhealed. Your brother was carved
out of me like a piece of meat, by strangers, discussing their day, while I was naked, tied down,
I had felt it all. And I cannot imagine a more violent rape. I lost a part of myself after that birth.
And how strange to call it a birth, because it was. It was both violence and it was a birth.
I never fully recovered from that experience. I thought I could not, should not, and would not be
asked to confront birth again. I wished every visceral, painful memory of it away.
And somehow, with your presence inside my body, I found the courage to grow you.
I spent forty weeks building the courage to birth you. And you had a part, too. You told me you
were healthy, and happy, and that you wanted to be part of our lives. You told me not to worry.
You moved in a very gentle way in my womb. I got a strong sense of your spirit. That was so
I birthed you in the very bed where you were made. No one hurt us this time, and no one
touched you before I. Your skin never left my skin in those incredible and magical hours after
birth. One of your first acts was to pee all over me. I wept with relief and with joy. You were
perfect, And I felt, for the first time in three years, that my body was not broken.
We spent the first two weeks of your life in that bed. Wide open and a not just a little raw in each
our own way. We had, together, ushered in a new life through my body. We were still a dyad,
but now a little less so.
I hope that I never forget the first time I took you outside of that bedroom, and you breathed
cold, fresh October air.
The first time you looked right into my eyes and you smiled at me.
The first time I heard your high, dolphin-esque laugh.
The first time I bathed you, willing with all of my might that the water and the soap would not
alter your sweet newborn scent.
The first time I realized you had enough hair for me to brush.
The first time I left you with a nanny, and saw that someone else could soothe you, too.
Dear Little Person, your brother gave me the sacred gift of Motherhood, and you are the one
that gave me the sacred gift of healing.
Diana is mom to two little boys, A four-year old and a 18-month old.
When she's not chasing around her boys, Diana is a dedicated yogi, and loves to spend as much time outdoors with her family as possible.
She lives in Seattle, WA.
You can connect with Diana on instagram @aninstrumentofthypeace, and on Facebook @ Diana Tayan
A collection of posts from different humans all over the world, sharing their stories about the struggles they have faced in their individual journeys to motherhood.