HEAL BEFORE YOU HAVE KIDS

Chenise Sinclaire photographed by Celeste Shiels

Like thousands of other quotes and advice out there surrounding parenthood; “heal before you have kids” has got to be the one that I challenge the most. 

Why? Because It’s impossible to ‘fully’ heal before having children. 

Yep. 

Impossible. 

Don’t misinterpret my words now; of course, do as much healing as you can. We should always try to be better versions of ourselves than we were the day before, and the day before that, and so on. 

If there are things you know you need to work on before you plan to have children, do them. For yourself and for your future children. 

You both deserve that. 

However, once you become a mother (I’m going to speak from my personal experience here -  therefore I’m going to say mother because that’s the only version I can truly share a perspective from.) a change in you happens that I don’t think any english words I know could truly articulate the transformation a woman goes through when she births her child.

It was moments before I started pushing to deliver my daughter, after 36 hours in active labour it was time to get this show on the road. When my midwife told me that I was finally 10cm dilated and I’m going to meet my daughter soon, my husband stood by my side holding my hand tight, kissing my head telling me “You can do this!”. and for the first time in my entire life, I felt complete and utter terror (and without trauma dumping on you - I’ve been through a lot of scary shit.)

I remember looking up to the blinding lights above me, the monitors beeping rapidly behind me, making me fully aware of how fast my heart was pounding in my chest. I kept breathing deeply, trying to slow down my heart rate to rid the noises from my mind so I could focus on giving birth as calmly as possible. 

And my last thoughts before I started to push were, “This is it. This is the moment my life changes forever. Life as I know it will never be the same. I’m about to become a mother. Forever.” 

I was excited of course, I’d been waiting for this since the moment I saw the word “Pregnant +” on the pregnancy test. But all of the research, nesting and preparation, both materialistically and physically that I had done leading up to delivery, could never prepare me for how I was going to change internally. 

My psyche had transformed the minute I reached down, pulled her out (I had a Kourtney Kardashian moment) and met my daughter's beautiful little face on my chest. 

Instant tears, instant cries, from all of us. A moment in time I’ll never forget.
It’s true when you hear other mums say “the pain goes away the second you meet your baby!”, (it was like that for me at least and I know not every birth is the same and a lot of mothers have a completely different experience.) I hold that moment so tenderly to my heart. 

I was so proud of myself and couldn’t believe I just gave birth to a fucking baby. I could not stop staring at her perfect little face and I didn’t, no matter how badly my neck was cramping up from the lack of movement those first hours.

The first few days, weeks and even months for me were mostly survival. Postpartum Anxiety had now entered my life and I didn’t even realise it had until I did some research to learn a lot of other mums around me didn’t have the intrusive thoughts I did, the panic, the general heightened fear of life itself. 

Here I was looking after this little baby girl whilst I had to also learn how to be a mum. 

I had never had a baby before, and I had never been a mum before.
“How will I know what to do?” I would ask every seasoned mother I knew.
“You’ll just know.” Is all I ever got as my answer.
As time went on, the more I learned, the more I trusted myself, the truer that answer became for me. 

I did know. 

I knew my baby. 

She knew me. 

It wasn’t until I got out of the thick of it (the fourth trimester) when I started to see more of my daughter's personality come through that I began to feel some areas within myself bubbling up to the surface that needed some attention. 

I started to realise the areas in my childhood where I was treated in ways I could never imagine treating my own child.

Unfairly.

Unprotected. 

Unsafe.

I had wounds that had gone unnoticed until I had a child of my own. 

Anger, rage, sadness, grief, robbery. 

I felt four years old again, sent to my room alone with a wound I didn’t know how to clean. 

I felt it all. 

I was angry amongst a ray of other colourful emotions at my own parents for ways I felt they had failed me and I couldn’t have possibly known about them until I had a child myself. 

So now what? 

I have this baby to look after, I’m trying to be joyous in this new journey I’m on and now I have to deal with past trauma?! 

I was so mad! Then I realised what I was feeling was grief. I was grieving the child I could have been, the childhood I could have had, the parents I needed then. 

How could I have possibly healed that part of myself before I had my daughter if I didn’t know what I didn’t know? 

Impossible. 

This is why I beg to differ from the initial advice, “heal before you have kids.” 

You heal what you can before children and be aware that unexpected things may (and most likely always will) arise along the way after you do have them. I’m sure there will be many, many more of my own that come up as the years go on and more children I have.

Moving forward, I accepted the cards I had been dealt in my childhood. I extended grace to my parents, taking into account that they also had no idea what they were doing when they had me. 

They also are a product of their history with their parents and their own trauma. Without excusing some of their behaviour, I can still acknowledge what I believe was wrong and realise there’s nothing I or they can do about it now. 

I choose to be gracious and move forward with forgiveness in my heart. It was the only way I knew that I was going to be able to live a happy life and focus on being the best mother I can be. 

The silver lining we can learn from our parent’s mistakes and their shortcomings is; I now know how I don’t want to be, and I know how I do want to be. 

And some of those things wouldn’t have been brought to my attention if I hadn’t had my daughter. 

You can only try your best to heal what you know about. 

Motherhood has been the best experience of my life, and I don’t think anything in the world could fill me with as much joy, happiness, love, strength, determination and purpose as my daughter has given me through her pure existence alone. 

I don’t mean for this post to frighten you if you’re an expecting mother, (or father, because these emotions can come up for both.) or if you’re planning to have children in the future. 

I’m just being honest with my personal experience and I had to share that why if you’re waiting purely to be “completely healed” before you have a child, it’s not realistic and I certainly never expected to go through the things I have since becoming a mother. 

Every one of us has a different experience, a different upbringing, a different life, a different reality. This was mine and I felt totally alone. I thought, “How come no one tells you about this?” Everyone is quick to give you ‘warnings’ about how tired you’ll be or give you advice on how to burp a baby but for some reason the deeper stuff is taboo.

But nothing is taboo on WATER-SHED.

If I can let just one mother know that she is not alone with these thoughts and feelings on her journey, my vulnerability is worth that to share. 

I wish every expecting and new parent a gentle entry into parenthood. 

I wish every mother to feel seen, heard, supported, understood, accepted and worthy, especially during the lonely hours in the morning when it’s just you and your baby awake while the world seems to be sleeping. 

We are never truly alone. 

There’s nothing you or I have felt that billions of others haven’t felt either and knowing that;  I can find some peace in that. 

Can you?

Most Ardently,
Chenise Sinclaire.