I recently had the privilege and honour of being present for the birth of my grandson, a truly precious experience I will always treasure. Needless to say, during the weeks prior to his birth, my thoughts were largely occupied with reflecting on the birthing process. In this reflective space, I found myself contemplating the birth paradox as well as how it metaphorically parallels the therapeutic process.

Every pregnant woman knows that there will come a time when her baby must be born. For nine months, she has been moving toward this moment; the defining moment when the life that has grown within her must leave the warmth and security of the womb and enter the world. For those vital nine months, her body has provided the essential environment and nutrients to protect, grow and sustain this new life. Now, however, more is needed; the baby within her has outgrown his home. His needs can no longer be met by staying within, nor is it safe for his mother for him to remain. In order for them both to survive and for him to continue to thrive he has to emerge.

So labour begins; mother and baby collaborating to bring about the process of birth. Painful? Yes. Worth it? Absolutely. There lies the birth paradox; pain and blessing side by side, one must go through the discomfort in order to meet new life.

How does the birth paradox mirror the therapeutic process? For many, there may come a time when we can no longer carry what is within us; whether that be the burden of past experiences that have hurt us, painful emotions, depression, confusion over the future. Whatever its shape, it needs to come out. As a mother enters labour, so too we must step into the discomfort of working what we carry out of our body.

Of course, there are differences between the two processes, we can only take the metaphor so far. There is no choice for the mother as to whether or not her baby is to be born, she cannot choose to carry him indefinitely. He has to come out. We however, can choose to hold onto our metaphoric baby; we can keep it within us, refusing to embark on the necessary, life sustaining process of releasing.  Also, a mother knows that at the end of her labour she will hold her child and that promise strengthens her, it serves to carry her through the discomfort. In contrast, we may not yet know what we will come face to face with. We cannot see what the product of our labour will be.

What, then, will give us courage? What will sustain us through our labour? The knowledge that staying ‘pregnant’ no longer serves us. We must meet what we carry in order to grow, just as mother and baby must meet for their relationship to grow. Painful? Perhaps. Worth it? Absolutely.

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