Surrendering
“When you are in a rebirth, you aren’t reborn just once. It comes in waves and layers. You let go and then you let go a little bit more. Without even realizing what is happening, the new pieces of your life begin to emerge. ”
It was late Spring when I wrote a post titled “Summoning.” It was my first introduction to Rune where I shared what I had been working towards while trudging through one of the most pivotal transitions I’ve endured to date. Fast forward to the brink of Winter, I’m wading through what I’ve undoubtedly found to be the most pivotal: becoming a mother to two miraculous identical twin girls. My pregnancy has awakened my body to a new in-between state; another rebirth from who I am to who I am becoming.
It too is dimly lit like a cave lined by torches, flickering with hope the deeper in I travel, but the destination is still uncertain. It’s shrouded in mystery until we all arrive at their due date.
Day after day I witness my body changing instinctively, amazed it’s without conscious effort. Although I cannot see what’s taking place beyond my womb’s walls, the expansion is evident. I can see my belly’s beautiful rounding; I feel the shifts beneath its smooth surface: their little kicks and rolls. These telltale signs of life remind me how real this is but my mind still considers them an enigma.
Like preparing for Rune’s birth, I’ve been summoning my inner strength and courage to embark on a new path; to embody my most authentic self as a clinician and mother of two. This time though, I am harvesting the stores of resilience and wisdom I’ve gained through my experiences especially over the past year to channel these traits in new ways. It’s a season of preparation, wintering, and busyness, but not in the most obvious of ways. In taking the space to look inward, this is what I felt called to share…
I’ve been busy.
Busy meeting myself at my own depths
so I can continue to meet you at yours.
Busy facing my own shadows
so I can hold a lantern as you journey within to face your own, reclaiming your wholeness.
Busy brushing aside cobwebs I didn’t even realize were clouding my subconscious
so I can hold space while you sift through and shed what you find there, reclaiming your clarity.
Busy learning how to be an “expecting mother” without expectation
so I can empathize even deeper when change asks you to adapt sometimes as swiftly as it arrives.
Busy balancing the need to forge my way through uncharted territory while allowing the path to reveal itself
so I can guide you in attuning to your energy and intuition when faced with the unknown.
Rather than resisting…
I’ve finally come to appreciate that my journey is as unique as the year I’ve had and the story I closely guard surrounding it.
Of its many plot twists, each invites me to alchemize my emotions & experiences into something new. My story is far from done though. I’m simply preparing to write the next chapter.
I’ve been busy becoming more embodied, forgiving myself for the ways I ignored my body’s messages and intuition in the past.
I do this so I can offer you the compassion I wish I gave myself so you can summon the strength to forgive yourself too.
I’ve been busy reflecting on birthing two souls into the world. how this year more than any other, I’ve been so busy creating.
Pregnancy is a new & welcomed unknown but this time, I’m not in a rush to get to The Other Side. I’ve learned to settle into the void because there’s bright moments of joy to cherish here & now.
There’s growth in becoming, not only in culminating - and I’m proud of the woman, clinician, and mother I’m becoming.
I’ve been busy preparing for our girls to join us in 10 or less weeks.
Just writing that makes my heart skip.
Sometimes I feel like I’m floating on a lake’s surface under the moon adorning layers of iridescent fabric that undulate around me. As a woman I feel serene, my body is woven with innate wisdom for all types of creation. Like an ancient vessel reborn, it remembers what it’s like to revel in this particular glimmering state of gestation.
Other times it feels like I got snagged by a rip tide - bare, frantic, overcome by the unexpected force of emotion and the depths of myself it drags me into. In these moments, I let it out. I cry. Like, ugly cry. I clutch and rub my belly, letting the girls know how much I love them, how this has nothing to do with them except for when I feared the worst after hearing about the Vasa Previa diagnosis. That fear has passed knowing I’ll be in the best of facilities under careful watch.
I love my craft but, in this case, my gratitude for modern medicine is endless. For me, this is the time and a place. It’s scary to think this but it couldn’t help but cross my mind: had I been pregnant decades let alone centuries ago, the worst would not be implausible. But now, knowledge is power: it’s offered us all the means to prepare which means preparing for the best outcome - with Raven Blair and Avalon Maeve thriving as soon as they enter this world - plus my safety prioritized.
So, when I’m in the rip tide, I breathe deeply. I do one thing at a time or nothing and let it carry me.
“Keep your head above water” is what I keep telling myself.
I’ve been busy trusting this current will take me where it will, some inevitably calmer waters if don’t struggle and surrender to what’s happening. I hope that by giving myself the space to process all that comes up for me, that I can help our girls do the same, to self-soothe with a sense of safety in times of overwhelm. I want them to know that it’s okay to feel whatever they do - to cry, to have that tantrum. I’ll hold them right through it with tears in my own eyes in awe at how big their hearts are to feel so deeply in such little bodies.
Nonetheless, I’ve been busy trusting that the tide will ebb again. I’ll come out from the edge of its magnetic pull, released to float on with a renewed appreciation for its transformative power. Except this time, I’ll be more humbled than any time before when life’s currents have swept me off my feet. While I’m more than midway through the portal of this wild unknown, I’ve been busy assessing the strength of my own waters so I can be a more grounding anchor for when you fear getting swept away by yours.
In a few short weeks, I’ll be busy resting in a way I haven’t before. By conserving my energy, slowing my body and mind, my girls can have all they need to ripen before arriving.
As part of this perpetual season of letting go, I am also busy reminding myself that I don’t always need to be doing more.
I’m doing enough…
Enough healing.
Enough reflecting.
Enough therapy.
Enough shadow work.
Enough Rune-related work.
Enough researching parenting tips.
When they arrive in this world, Evan and I will be all they need whether we think so or not. A good friend reminded me that as their mother, my presence and attentive love will be enough. I’ve been busy believing that to be true.
I’m craving the time to just sit with how far I’ve come, even temporarily, rather than chasing how much farther I know I want to go, the things I want to achieve and experience. Having so many restrictions placed on my activity levels starting in my second trimester was not what I wanted, but maybe it’s what I needed. Spending my third trimester in a hospital for bed rest is definitely not what I wanted, but that too, is just what I needed. The truth is, it’s what I would have never given myself so freely beyond its concrete walls: pure rest unadulterated by a nagging urgency to hurry up and get it over with.
No, you see, this rest will be prolonged just like the Winter ahead.
In the hospital it might be hard, boring, even isolating at times, but I have the power to choose my perspective and create my reality within the confines of circumstance. With that being my truth in a sea of what-if and unknowns, I look forward to making my stay a space of ease, wonder, and warmth. A balance of introspection and connection. I look forward to this respite.
I’m curiously ready to surrender to this season’s lessons before I’m truly busy raising daughters.
To those of you who have been so encouraging and understanding during my journeys this year, know I’ll be thinking about you with a full heart, eager to return when I’m ready. I will re-emerge for in-person care at Rune likely in late Spring, all in time to blossom, retaining the same essence but a new form. Again I’ll be reborn since the moment a child is born, a mother is too.
See you on The Other Side.
All my love,
Dr. Lauren
“When we ask to greet a new horizon, we have to learn to embrace the journey that will get us there.”