Our Guest Post today comes from jennifer Murdock, Founder of Wombpdx and Filmmaker (Peace on Earth- the Reality of Midwives). Thank you, Jennifer, for sharing your story with us!

I guess I should specify. My mother’s mental illness, my father’s, my daughter’s father and my own.

I didn’t expect to manage my daughter’s.

I could tell you the list of events she has had in her life to prove she has ‘suffered’. I could also tell you all of the mistakes I have made that add to that list. I could also say mom guilt has held me in its grasp for years. The visual of laying on the ground with the agony of being alive while she is in the other room, is almost too much to bear.

Seeing as suicidal ideation was my go to response for not knowing how to deal with my life, why would I expect it to magically change after childbirth?

It didn’t. I laid on the floor of my bedroom at night a few times wondering why I wasn’t enough to mother this child as the princess I knew her to be.

On second thought…what about everything I did give her? I wouldn’t even know my strength, I believe, if it wasn’t for my birth support team.

That time was out of everything I knew to be. It was freeing. I wasn’t told to conform to norms I didn’t want to adhere to. Instead I was held. I was brought in. I was alive.

How did my midwives do this? They grounded my connection to this awe inspiring body that can create life. They came on strong, and decided to use that power to be still. They knew the tools they held, and they waited until the right time to use them. They followed my lead, until I didn’t know where to go. This is when I knew I could trust them. When I was told what to do, I knew it was an act of mercy. It wasn’t an order, it was always with respect, and a peaceful knowing that comes from watching women birth hundreds of times. I could do it. I was empowered.

My family lives 3000 miles away. I take this as a gift. Because for me, this meant I could reinvent my ideas about childbirth, and on motherhood. I will never forget the day after giving birth. With my hot water heater not working, we went to check in with my birth team. My 25 year veteran Northern Californian midwife gave me her shower, told me about engorgement and when hearing me complain about my stiff neck, told everyone to leave, pulled out her massage table and worked it out. Wellness care that provided me with more energy to give to my baby girl and myself.

It was that very present care that kept this feeling of being held and loved in my body after moving to Portland, Oregon. After years of falling, I knew that being held was what I needed. So I finally reached out for help. And I knew what to look for. Community.

I found it. I found compassion with acceptance from a community that I felt safe with, and knew had my best interest at heart. I could feel that inner warmth that I could trust. I knew it was possible. I knew what to look for. Not rules but guidance that I could take on my own timeline.

My daughter Maya turned 21 last Sunday. I have had to swallow some pills that hurt real bad. But I knew I was worth holding, so I held myself.

She is awesome obviously. We all are. We do our best to grow and find what makes us, us. I am still learning this self care as they call it. I have been able to reconnect with my own true power knowing that I own it deep down, and with this knowing, I am totally killing it.