Keep Calm and Carry On

"A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world." John 16:21

I read a recent blog post regarding the Duchess of Cambridge and its content pierced my heart in a way I would like to candidly and explicitly explain on mine.

After walking out of my Physical Therapist's office where I had an emotional release (scientific term for crying meltdown) after she manually unstuck my pelvis which was so misaligned that the tissue between my vagina and colon was having spasms so intense that my pelvic floor had seized up in protest of the pain. My uterus which is still sore is contracting at random and my breath so shallow as to keep my lower back stable from the ache of a cracked tailbone. The scar tissue incurred from a tear that pushing out a nine pound five ounce baby will bring says NO to penetration and my bulging hemorrhoids make a morning movement less than enjoyable.
Mind you, I've been in recovery from childbirth for five months. And I still have kangaroo's pouch.

In her first trimester, Kate Middleton suffered through months of hyperemesis gravidarum with intractable nausea in which she was hospitalized and fed an IV drip for her nourishment and the growing future Prince George. I know this because she did this under the watchful and preying eye of the world.

I laid naked on my couch in East Village in front of a window unit AC, vomiting every bit of my stomach contents (water and bile) into or onto whatever surface found in that moment's notice of nausea. I did this for twenty-one weeks. And not with grace.

Less than twenty-four hours after the delivery of another human being (no less a royal) in which she grew and carried among her adoring fans and brutal scoffers, the Duchess stepped into the face of public scrutiny, as a beaming beautiful new mum (in heels) and presented her new family with poise and style.

And what did the haters do?  They criticize her appearance.
Never mind praise the miraculous occurrence or honor her blessed experience.

So tonight I'll pour my drink a little stronger, cut off a hunk of  my Westminster Royal Addition Cheddar, and raise a glass from one strong mother to another.

Job well done!