I recently saw a post that read: The only pain I want to feel in 2020 is a tattoo needle.
I’ve never had a tattoo. I’m too chicken.
I have had occasions where I got very close to getting a tattoo, but I backed out and ran home.
I choose my pain. When the goal is worthwhile, when it’s something I really want, I will endure pain. Childbirth comes to mind.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I watched endless hours of TLC Birth Stories. I would cry with joy at the beautiful little babies being born at the end of each episode. They had their doulas, they had birthing balls, they had bathtubs. And beautiful little babies came out and everything was just awesome.
My experience was nothing like those episodes and it made me angry. I crawled into the hospital on my hands and knees and could not stand up or even get into the wheelchair unassisted. The pain was a level I had not mentally prepared for. 22 hours. The epidural only numbed one side of my body. My husband was not rubbing my back, he was terrified in the corner cracking open pistachios in a stupor. Note so self: don’t pack pistachio nuts for a snack next them. 22 hours of the sound of pistachio shells cracking open is no joke.
I thought I was prepared. I packed all the stuff I saw on TLC. Essential oils, birthing ball, scented things to calm and soothe. (My Ass!). My contractions went from 15 minutes apart to 5 minutes apart and stayed there for 22 hours.
My son was born by c-sections. I didn’t have an ounce of energy to push him out. I cried. I failed. The one thing I wanted most in life was to experience a ‘normal’ childbirth. I felt robbed. I was angry for a long time.
But that is the kind of pain I was willing to go through. 4 miscarriages to birth 2 children. That was a pain I was willing to endure. After the 22 hours of labor for my son, I was willing to go through it again to have my daughter. I am absolutely joyful about experiencing that kind of pain when I see the results of having two beautiful, awesome kids in my life.