Mommy’s Groove

I’ve called it a sacred space; I’ve heard it referred to as a womb-room. It’s the space we created in our bedroom after our children were born. It was quiet or quietly interactive, at times light and sometimes dark, filled with love and laughter, wonder and joy. Here, we ate, slept, changed diapers, snuggled, sniffed, caresses, bathed, listened with ears and hearts, watched and wept.

It sounds crazy to any modern, active woman. Lying-in bed for 15 days with newborn? Why would you need to sequester yourself and the baby instead of getting outside, visiting with family or just living outside the bedroom?

Part of the magic of the lying-in experience is in creating the sacred space. In that space, focus is only on the baby and the new Mom. The new family does nothing but experience one another, for all their foibles, eccentricities, and personal nuisances. They are naked to one another, literally and figuratively. The babe gets her milk as freely as the air she breathes because it is available to her on demand, unencumbered by coverings. Mom and Dad use their primitive tactile senses to get to know the contours and crevices of the baby. (My husband would caution not to use your finger as a diaper dip stick!)

The baby receives personal security by being close to Mom and Dad every minute after she is born for 15 days. Imagine the trust built by that effort alone? Coming from the 24 hour, water encapsulated buffet of the womb, there could be cause for concern about all the new noise, where the next meal is coming from and how strenuously one must work to get it. There must be discomfort with the cumbersome new diapers and clothes which shift about on the new skin! Then there’s the blurred vision to grapple with. Lying-in gives physical reassurances with every loving act of care for the basic human needs of this new life.

The room also isolates Mom from the macerations of her daily responsibilities as they were before the birth. She doesn’t have to make a grocery list, she can just ask for what she wants to be added to it. She does not have to deal with the bills, walking the dog, the noisy neighbours or the on-going dramas in her social life. She does not have to be friend, daughter, cleaner or baker. Her only responsibilities are to provide for the needs of her new baby, and in doing so form the intuitive dyad of the mother-child relationship. That synergy will ease the transition to new motherhood and day-to-day life for the baby.

This dyad will know when it’s time to return to resting because one person is over-tired, too stimulated or feeling overwhelmed. Mom will recognize colicky behaviour as a likely cue to rest, and respond with quiet consoling. They will hear when the volume of life is way too high and immediate retreat is called for.

The womb-room allows the senses to have a slow awakening. No TV, no music, no bright lights or jarring activity. Just calm, happy voices, little siblings climbing on the bed to sneak a peak or snuggle in.

When my second child was born, Kate came in and out between her activities and enjoyed the baby without being immediately burdened by the reality that competition had arrived. She was told that he was getting the same, loving care she had received. And off she went to resume her 21 month old active life.

I never imaged being able to enjoy 15 days so completely inactive. But I experienced the very common sense of it, in part because I took opportunities to very briefly re-visit the world when I needed to get moving. We took a brief walk down the block with Michael when we felt the need to get fresh air, then returned to lying-in. I walked alone 5 days after Kate was born. There I enjoyed the wonder at what I’d experienced reflected in the motion of the nearby water, before returning to lying-in. We also emerged into the house for a couple of very brief visits with near and dear family — and again returned to lying-in. Everything in moderation, seemed to be a good rule.

It wasn’t fanfare and trumpets or ringing of bells — but it was a slow crescendo lasting 15 days until the wider world opened to the babes. That was music to our lives.

This entry was posted on Thursday, March 1st, 2007 at 10:52 am and is filed under Lying-in, mothering a toddler. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.