Womb,
You deserve a womb cleansed in glacial springs.
A womb held in the lap of the great mother... laid to rest in the angelic quiet sun over a mossy stone.
Under the redwood and oak tree.
You deserve a womb protected by braided sweetgrass.
Touched with the presence and softness of a rose.
You deserve a womb pulsing with wild jungle and cascading waterfalls.
Temples of honeycomb humming with honey.
Womb, you deserve undisturbed space to be in your tomb of death and rebirth.
To have the spaciousness to go at your own pace.
You deserve a pause before entry.
Adorned with offerings of tobacco, figs, wine, cacao and blue corn brought to your altar.
You, womb, deserve to be lit up with beeswax candles.
A fire made each night to warm your canyons… carefully chosen logs placed and peeled with prayer.
You deserve to be wrapped in the generous heart of Buffalo hide; loyal and rooted in truth.
꩜ ꩜ ꩜
One humid afternoon, it hit me like a stab to the womb. Buckled in pain I went to lay down in the spare bedroom at my dads house. Power tools and loud hammering filled the house. My dad noticed I was not well, but kept going with his work. I was chilled yet sweating profusely. Covers coated on top of me; my own personal sweatlodge. The pain swelled like waves rising to a rocky cliff with nowhere to go, then died down again. This cycle persisted for hours. When the pain subsided, my body still anticipated it; already tense and ready to take it on.
Every moon cycle my period would come to a close and 5-10 days of debilitating pain on my left side (over my left ovary) would rush in.
I had just started having sex a year prior. I barely knew my body then, but I knew enough that something was very wrong and it was related to my moon. Doctors found nothing. I had doctors visits what seemed like weekly yet not enough. I needed an answer. I wanted to feel better. I wanted to feel like myself again. I wanted to live like a normal person. "What's wrong with me/you?" "I/you cannot be fixable." These stories and beliefs crept in. Pain crippled my joy, self worth and sexuality. I missed numerous days and weeks of school. Years went by which felt like lifetimes. Pain became an identity. Hospitals were my new school and community. Shame, guilt, fear, embarrassment devoured me. I went to every type of doctor there seemed imaginable. Internal ultrasounds invaded my body and womb, only to come out short. Medications of all varieties given to attempt process of elimination... only scratching the surface of the root cause. My vital fertile body was now a wilted rose; life sucked away from it.
Finally, a last resort, another gynecologist recommended. Another dildo device slathered in cold lubricant crept up my spine without consent; a submarine in the ocean of my uterus, shining light on what is meant to be dark.
Into the light, exhausted searching had come to a halt. We had found the cause. Lurking like a time bomb beneath the sea was a tiny pea-sized bubble filled with menstrual blood from previous cycles. Every cycle gorging itself and inflating with blood that's meant to be drained from the body instead of holding it.
With this new discovery came 2 hour drives to a specialist, and more tests. Painful injections of chemical dyes into my cervix. I felt like a wasteland. A testing zone. A direct reflection of mother earth and her pain. Tears streamed down my face as I lay on cold metal under florescent lights, legs pried open. Exposed. Vulnerable. Terrified. Traumatized. I left my body. Numb. Dissociated. Anger fear pain and rage went underground.
Surgery came and went, leaving a 3 inch scar above my pubic bone... a reminder of the war and wounds within my womb.
☽☽☽
Healing takes time.
We can’t rush it.
Modern medicine tries, but I can say from experience that it usually does more harm than good. Leaves us more traumatized, invaded, isolated and fragmented more than before we arrived. Similarly, when plant medicines are used without the adequate preparation, holding and integration… many folks go from one ceremony to the next without any of these aspects to set their whole ecosystem up for success and health. Everyone wants a quick fix. We don’t give ourselves the time and our culture doesn’t give us the time to have time for listening preparing holding listening more holding again trying again pausing integrating listening feeling listening. We want the next "fix". We’re desperate and want results NOW but they’ll never be long lasting without the time, space, listening, holding, witnessing of another and devotion.
Recently, my path has taken me closer to doulaship with women who are now mothers, want to become mothers, who have lost their children, who have experienced sexual trauma, lost a part of themselves due to birth or the medical system… or are experiencing a kind of symbolic death and rebirth within themselves.
In hearing their stories I have been reminded of my own experiences which went underground in order to survive and feel normal again. With their reflections, I have been able to access deeper parts of myself which have experienced pain. My womb in particular has asked to be seen. To be held. To be felt. What I’ve held of painful past experiences from past partners, the medical system and my own lineage is now surfacing to be acknowledged and released. To rebirth into a new version of my womanhood from fertile ground. And as I listen to the story of my own womb, I am reminded that we each carry pain.
As women we are space holders. We hold space literally in our wombs for creation. However, the shadow side of this is we can carry things for too long which can debilitate our truth.
Over 15 yrs later, I am just now able to access these wounds with courage, compassion and grace. Learning how to embody the nature of my own rhythms… how to access the earths wisdom and resources for healing… how to communicate with the spirit realms for guidance. How to be humbled and ask for help. How to listen and care for my body… How to forgive and let go. To clear a space in my womb for rebirth.
I share my story because we all have experienced some form of harm; self harm, sexual trauma, medical trauma, harm from another. It can be isolating, we can feel alone in the process or attach to a victim story (there is something "wrong" with me...). Shame and embarrassment or feeling less of a woman can consume our truth. However, we are not meant to carry it alone. We are meant to be in circles to be held and witnessed, to alchemize these stories/beliefs/identities/traumas into creation, beauty, purpose, healing.
I am passionate about supporting other women in reclaiming the wisdom and vitality of their body. To learn to listen to what their body is communicating and to be aware of their body’s unique cycles and rhythms. To resource within herself and with the earth to guide and empower her own wellness. To have outlets beyond the medical system and instead to turn within to her own ecosystem, Mother Earth and the network of women within her community to resource with.
I write to all women. To women who have experienced trauma, to mothers, to the matriarchal lines. To pachamama. To men who are with a woman who has suffered trauma or harm. Who desire to hold the earth and women in a good way. It is time. To tend to her. To witness and acknowledge what she has endured and gathered and done to become who she is now.
*This photo is a small bowl of herbs I used in a ritual Yoni Steam; a way for women to clear and cleanse and strengthen their wombs of stagnation, energetic "hucha" or negativity, pain/trauma, energy from others, foreign substances or toxins, etc. Women of many cultures practice this healing ritual before and after their moontime and before or after childbirth.
I write stories from my womb during this intimate time; to give my womb a voice, to listen, to give space for what needs to move, to celebrate and honor the sweet release and profound wisdom of my blood and body.
With wild love,
Hannah