I am nine months postpartum from my sixth pregnancy and birth. As I’ve learned to lean more strongly into my feminine nature over the past few years, it’s a strange paradox of feeling the most weak, yet the most capable ever in my life - a feeling which is magnified in the tender postpartum period.

One might think that in my “grand multiparas1” state, the sixth experience of carrying a child into the world would seem quite ordinary; a happening unremarkable because of its frequency. “It’s not my first rodeo!” I have laughingly told strangers when they expressed surprise at the number of my children. “It’s old hat by now!” I’ve told other moms who expressed their awe at our decision to have another child. I almost came to believe it myself, so often did I comment on the amount of times I’ve been pregnant and given birth.

But the reality has proven far more mysterious and wonderful. My body, moving through the familiar patterns of morning sickness, breast tenderness, swollen varicose veins, and sleepless nights, has simultaneously provided me with a precious look into the past in its mirroring of the months I carried my other children under my heart, and an example of the woman I am today in all its frailties and strengths.

She - the corporeal reality of my existence - has served me, my self, in the heralding of yet another new life into our world. Throughout my nine months of postpartum thus far, I have sat in awe of my body and all it has accomplished.

My immediate postpartum experience was one of tending to that precious body, which belongs not only to myself but to my family in its glorious service. I will detail the birth in another post, as I find it worthy of its own writing experience.

My husband took enough time off work to manage all my usual responsibilities while baby and I simply laid there and bonded. I’m not going to mince words - it was heavenly. I put away my phone and drank in the smell of my newborn daughter. Ned brought me 3 nourishing meals a day and plenty of electrolytes, bolstered by a wonderfully generous meal train from our various friends in the 3 weeks following the birth. I wish we had been able to enact this lying-in after my previous births, but to me that does not detract from our beautiful experience with this sixth baby. We didn’t think to take any Instagram-worthy postpartum belly pictures with baby, or soft images of me and my daughter snuggling close in my lying-in week. I regret not taking more pictures, but even better - I lived my postpartum fully and presently.

My body healed quickly from all the horizontal rest, and I was able to fit back into my regular clothes fairly soon after birth - a startling departure from my previous experiences, but not an unwelcome one.2 It was strange to zip my jeans at a week postpartum and almost feel as though the previous nine months had barely happened. Even so, I find myself changed after this birth as I have after each previous time. Do you feel that way as well - that birth leads you into a new version of yourself, more powerful yet softer? More mysterious, yet grounded? After the baby is out, the blood and fluids cleaned away, I am greeted by a familiar body who has a few new lessons to gently teach me. I’m not just speaking of the extra weight, or swollen breasts; no, after those physical states have passed, a new self remains, shining and resplendent in her confirmed glory as a mother, again.

Breastfeeding was difficult as it has been with my other children. Before we were able to get my daughter’s tongue and lip ties revised, I experienced again the excruciating pain and physical damage characterizing my early days of nursing.3 About ten days postpartum, I sat sobbing on the couch as I literally bled from my breast with the baby crying on my lap. Every time she tried to latch, it would rip the tissue open again. Sorry if that’s graphic - but I do not want to shy away from the realities of my experience. I expected the pain and knew the troubles would be temporary, but it never ceases to amaze me how much we are willing to endure just to feed our babies; and, how rapidly the body is able to heal itself once the conditions have changed for the better.

Nine months later, I am tired, grateful and happy. Things haven’t been nearly as hard as I thought they would be. But, my hair is still falling out.

It began all of a sudden around 6 months postpartum, the usual time for many women who experience hair loss after having a baby. I had never experienced this amount of shedding after my other babies, so it came as a frightening surprise when a good deal of my hair simply let go of my head and started to stick to everything around me. Suddenly there’s always stray hairs on my sweater, my hair brush is full…. and I don’t intend to complain, but I guess I’m just sharing in case you haven’t experienced this - it’s stressful because there’s nothing you can do to stop it besides wait for your body to do its thing. You can’t make the hair stay, no matter how nicely you ask.

Fortunately the shedding has slowed down, but I still look at my brush with alarm each morning after very very carefully brushing my hair. It’s okay, though - our sweet little girl is worth it. Let’s not lie, though; some days I really feel like this:

Since this is indeed “not my first rodeo,” I have faith that my hair will grow back eventually, I will get more sleep someday, and I won’t have to wear only nursing-friendly clothes forever. Having many children has given me the perspective and patience that a 20-year old version of myself as a first-time mother was severely lacking. I remember the stress, the tears, the shock at the utter invasion of my privacy and changes in my body after our first baby. What I wouldn’t give to have my oldest child an infant again, just for a day! To hold the weight of my past babies as they sleep against my breast… to stroke their slightly sweaty hair on a summer afternoon… to feel them born from my body, where I first made room for them.

Just as our body holds space for a child, so too does the larger world of our home and family. Our family grows in love as it grows in size; we never cease to be amazed at how the heart can hold an infinite vastness in love for its many members. Our house is neither small nor large, and so far there’s always been a way to fit another person within its snug walls. I am in no hurry to transition the baby out of the crib in our room. Soon enough she will be with her big sister in the girls’ room, and my space will be empty of children. Left alone in the quiet to marvel at my God-given capacity to carry and nourish the lives of our family.

What can be said about a body that has borne another entire human being into life?

A body inside which the portal to another world lies, through which a human soul travels - ordained by God - to be created in a literal spark of light… A body that has cradled, nourished and protected a helpless person for the better part of a year, knitting itself intimately with the child…A body which rent itself asunder in the wild delivery of the child into the outer world?

And what can further be said about a body that has done so six times?

I say: she’s served me well.