Lessons of Labor on Labor Day: Remembering the Beginner's Mind, an excerpt from the book by Julia Aziz

 

I suppose it is hokey associating Labor Day (the day to honor workers) with the labor of childbirth, but, heck, it ain't called "labor" for nothing. Any woman who has gone through it can tell you that it is a lot of work.

Ironically, my daughter's birthday is today, Labor Day. Giving birth during the Labor Day weekend meant that her doctor was out of town, but we both survived. Though I tried hard to make it into the regular work week, she was having none of that, and after 12 hours of negotiation on the date, she won. So, happy birthday to my Labor Day (now working) girl.

It seems appropriate, then, to share an excerpt today from Lessons of Labor by Julia Aziz, a social worker and three times a mother. She knows something about both kinds of labor. 

REMEMBERING THE BEGINNER’S MIND

 

About a week before my second baby’s due date, I woke up in the middle of the night to the same menstrual-like cramping that began my first labor. Excited at 3 a.m. in the morning, I woke my husband and started walking around, breathing deeply, and timing the contractions. After two high-adrenaline hours of this, I realized that the only thing that had progressed was my exhaustion. I had lost a precious night of sleep when the real sleep loss was imminent. I went back to bed, and my contractions eventually subsided until they went away completely.

 

When I called my midwife in the morning, I learned that false labor is commonplace with second babies. Apparently, I was not alone in assuming that I knew how labor would go just because I had been through it before.

 

It’s best to be wary of thinking I’ve got it all figured out. The beginner’s mind is open to all possibilities.

 

As a novice, I am eager to learn. Once I’m more seasoned, however, my self-assurance can make me less receptive. In parenting, many of us are open to all sorts of ideas the first time around, but when it comes to raising second children, we may think we know what to expect. Finally, we have a little experience under our belts and know a few things about children and parenting. Having that confidence is a relief and a blessing, but there is a danger in thinking we know. It gets in the way of learning, and it can blind us to the newness of each experience with each child.

 

My first son had an easy transition to preschool. He started going to a neighbor’s home-based program when he was two years old, and except for one anomalous morning, he never batted an eye when it came time for me to say goodbye. Out in the world, he thrived on stimulation, and so school was a natural fit for him. When my second son started a small co-op preschool at the same age of two, I expected that a quick hug and kiss would do the trick, as it had with my first. I was very wrong. Weeks went by with tears and desperate “Mama, don’t leave!” pleas every day that we separated. I was taken off guard, as secretly I had thought it was my parenting that allowed my first child to handle goodbyes so easily. But my second child needed something different from me, and he taught me that lesson by being the individual that he is.

 

Six months into the co-op program, I finally gave up. The separations hadn’t gotten any easier, and my son really didn’t want to be there. He needed more time and a smoother transition. Now, at four years old, he mostly runs off to play when he gets to his preschool at the Nature and Science Center. Sometimes, though, he still needs some extra love and attention. With my third child, I don’t know what to expect. This, at least, I have learned.

 

It is disorienting to enter the unknown, but it is also dramatically life-affirming. I remind myself not to lose that aliveness just to gain some false security when I think I know the answers. I come back to the lesson of beginner’s mind again and again. I watch friends have babies and learn to bite my tongue when I see them doing things that didn’t work for me. Who am I to say what makes sense for their families? I watch my children experiment and try not to lead their way, even when I think I can predict the outcome. If their ideas fail, they will learn something from the experience of making a mistake. And who knows, maybe I will be surprised at what they discover.

 

Sometimes, as my older son loves to tell me, I am not right. What an exhilarating realization for a child! My mom and dad are not always right. It’s something I need to remember about myself, too, because it opens up the possibility of learning something new and of not missing out on what is truly unique about each moment. 

For other posts by and about Julia and/or Lessons of Labor, click HERE.