Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change,
into something rich and strange....
There is a reoccurring dream I've had for the past two years. I'm floating in a quiet sea. I feel peaceful and relaxed until a large wave of water crashes over me and suddenly I'm unable to breathe. The fear of drowning overwhelms me.
Each time I wake up to a feeling of deep sadness. Bittersweet memories follow. Many times I find myself awake in the middle of the night, tears running down my face, wondering what it all means.
This particular dream finally came to an end last week.
I went into the water. When I came back I was a better person.
Better than when I went in. (Doc Paskowitz)
Waves are the voices of tides.
Tides are life. Ocean's pulse. Taking ships out to sea.
And then back home to shore.
I woke up gasping for air, tears flowing. That sensation of floating suddenly turned into fear. Panic. What was once calm was now raging.
It all began around the time I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. It intensified greatly the week after she was born. Something strange had occurred. I had entered into and survived a traumatic yet beautiful transformation. My struggle in the sea throughout my dreams and my journey into motherhood had forever changed me. Instead of fighting pain, fearing the unknown, resisting the way in which the shift had occurred, I slowly learned to relax. To let go.
The story of my daughter's birth and the eight days we spent in the hospital afterward is something I have shared with only a few people. The fourth trimester is another chapter I'm finally putting words and healthy emotions to. There is still so much I'm learning, but for now this much is clear:
The waves were never meant to harm me. They were simply there to whisper truth.