Kintsugi

I’m standing completely naked in a room with four other people in it. Dignity has no meaning here. This is raw. This is real. My body has been breaking slowly for months and suddenly all at once; comfort no longer exists. “Aaaahh” I hear someone bellow. Was that me? I feel like an elephant is standing on my back and crushing it. This is pressure. This is pain. I’ve never felt so weak and yet so strong. “Non c’è la faccio più - help me!” I plead to the Italian nurse. They say something back, but no one is doing anything. Please, for the love of God, someone take away this pain! Here comes another wave. I put my arms around my husband’s neck, yell and lower into a squat position screaming out the suffering. Panting, puffing, trying to catch my breath. How many hours has this been going on? I can’t take it anymore. The nurse is back, she’s putting a mirror between my legs. Dignity has no meaning here. “Ci siamo, we’re ready!” Finally they are doing something, rushing, moving things around the room. Finally someone is going to help me. Flooded with relief, I’m eased slowly towards the door.

Wait - what is this strange, wooden stool and why are we moving towards it? We should be leaving this place, going somewhere else where they can help… “Allora Maria, the time has come to push, okay? But make sure to only do it when you feel a contraction - okay? ”

No one is coming to save me. There is only one way out of here. Oh God, let’s focus now. I turn to face the strange contraption. My husband is given the option of which view he’d like to have - I answer for him “He’s going behind me!” I lean back into him and squeeze his hands. Another wave, another guttural scream - they are fast and constant now. My body is given seconds before another one crashes into me, and another and another. “I need to pull against something” I try to explain and the midwife holds out some kind of scarf while I pull with all my might. It’s strange, I’ve never done this before, but my body knows exactly what it needs - Mother Nature looks after her offspring. The petite nurse is using her entire body weight against me. I’ve never felt so weak and so strong. “Vediamo la testa Meri, we can see the head! - brava, brava continua a fare così, c’è la fai, you can do this!

The pressure suddenly becomes pain, searing, burning, agonizing. A moment of clarity - “this is the worst moment of my life”, I realise, and strangely a sense of calm washes over me. It can’t get any worse than this, so logically, surely it surely can only get better? This pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, I’m being ripped in two with a sword of pure fire.

“Aspetta, aspetta Meri - wait!” I wreathe against my husband, every second feels like an hour. I gasp as finally the now-familiar sensation of a contraction rolls over me and momentarily overrides the burning. I have to finish this. Pulling and pushing and screaming and grunting I ride the wave of pain and focus all of my energy towards my child.

My baby. The little creature I have loved since I saw those two lines on stick. I’ve wished for this, longed for this, prayed for this, and he’s almost here. Just one more push, and suddenly it feels easy. My baby slides out and I collapse. Relief, relief, relief - thank God that’s over! I look up at my husband for reassurance. “I did it” I say smile weakly… Why is his face white and why isn’t he smiling? It’s over… Why doesn’t he look happy? I follow his gaze as the nurse opens the door and hurries out holding something small and blue in her arms.

Where is my baby? Shouldn’t there be a baby here? I look down at a stomach I don’t recognise - he’s not in there anymore, so where is he? I don’t have the energy to think about that right now. We are in hospital so no matter what he’s safe I reason as my eyes close. I had forgotten what it felt like to exist without pain, this is nice. I lean back into my husband. My husband doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. Time passes - seconds, minutes.

In the meantime my husband has been called away. Where are they? Where is my baby? Why didn’t they give him to me? What about the famous skin-to-skin I had spent nine months thinking about? Where have my midwives gone? Who are these new girls? I don’t have the energy to think about this now, my eyes close.

- - - -

The Japanese phrase “Kintsugi” is the combination of the words “Kin”, meaning golden and “tsugi”, meaning repair. It refers to the tradition of piecing broken ceramic and pottery back together by using a precious metal such as gold or silver. This 500-year-old tradition of fixing damaged items using such beautiful embellishments embraces the cracks as part of the story of the object while simultaneously adding to its splendour.

The pottery will never be the same after having experienced the damage that marred its original, perceived perfection.

Yet what takes its place is something infinitely stronger, more unique, resilient and ultimately beautiful.

- - - -

I hear a baby cry out; my baby? The door bursts open as my husband rolls in an incubator, beaming from ear to ear. There is a little baby inside - my baby? He’s perfect. So perfect. “Lo vuoi prendere in braccio?” they ask me. Of course I want to hold him!

It’s not possible for him to be too close to me - he is a part of me. He has always been a part of me. He’s so unbelievably soft, I’ve never felt anything so soft and warm and delicate in my life - my heart explodes and my universe cracks open.

I hold him for 30 seconds before the incubator sounds, its important for him to get back inside for now. Handing him to the nurse feels so unnatural, but making sure he is as safe and well as possible has suddenly become my one priority, my only priority. As long as he is near me, all will be well.

Becoming a mother rips you apart, physically, emotionally, mentally. You give parts of yourself that you never knew you had to another human being, and you do so willingly, selflessly, happily

You exist, so that they can. You sacrifice, so that they can thrive. You suffer, so that they can smile.

And wow...that first smile. That first laugh. That first hug. That first kiss.

The pottery will never be the same after having experienced the damage that marred its original, perceived perfection.

Yet what takes its place is something infinitely stronger, more unique, resilient and ultimately beautiful.