Finding hope

I was terrified to enter the classroom at the Arizona School of Integrative Studies, ASIS, on Friday, February 7, 2008. As I peered around the corner of the doorway I removed my shoes. My gaze fell upon a candle burning on a plate sitting on the floor. Encompassing the candle were a several pillows placed in a circle. The room was spacious and carpeted in a faded purple color.



"Welcome!" came the voice of a plump, sweet-faced woman sitting on one of the pillows. "Come on in, and make yourself comfortable."



I walked into the room, gathering strength from knowing that Corey entered this very classroom five days a week for massage instruction. I carried with me feelings of apprehension and fear. I doubted my skill to give massage in the weekend to come and I felt like I was in the wrong place. Add to it a lifelong fear of pregnancy and I knew I was in over my head. "I should just turn around and leave now," I thought. "There's only one other student here besides me. No one will care if I just go home. This is too much for me right now." I spite of my all-consuming fear, I walked forward, into the classroom and sat down on one of the pillows.



As the class began, the instructor rang a chime. She introduced herself as Olga Morris, a nurse-practitioner, massage therapist and massage instructor at ASIS. We went around the circle, each student introducing herself in turn. There were four of us all together, two middle-aged women and two twenty-somethings, me being one of them. Since the class was so small, I had decided to stay. After all, with women, I felt like I could be honest and maybe even a bit emotional if the occasion arose. I had a habit of being "strong" and not crying, but something in me allowed me to let my guard down in this setting. When it was my turn to introduce myself, I barely got my name out when the tears started flowing, uncontrollably. I had held onto feelings of loneliness for so long that it felt like a huge relief just to be in the same room as other women who just wanted to listen to what I had to say. Tears poured from my eyes as I told about how I came to be in the classroom with this group. I ended by saying, "and I am so glad to be here."



After that I was fine. I had let go of whatever was making me nervous about being in the class. No one cared that I wasn't a massage therapist yet. The women were very supportive and understanding about my fear of pregnancy, even though I did not elaborate as to why. It was something that I just quietly carried with me.

The evening went forward and as it did, I found myself wrapped up in a world I had never known. I had learned what a period was in 5th grade, watching a movie about it with only the girls in my class. However, I had never known the scientific miracle that the uterus really was. For example, I had no idea that the strongest muscle in my body was in fact my uterus. I did not know that in ancient times, women's periods were actually set by the moon. During the week of the full moon, when the moon shines the brightest in our sky, that's when women would menstruate. During the off weeks, when the moon was dim, they would have the rest of their cycle.

This is why some people prefer to call a women's period her "moon". ( I adopted this as my word of choice when speaking of this cleansing time in a woman's calendar after learning about it in class.) I also learned that if a woman is irregular, she can actually set her uterus's rhythm by using a similar method. By sleeping in total darkness for three weeks, then sleeping with a small night light on, she can actually set her moon back to being regular. (It may take a few cycles of this, but Olga informed us that it does work.)



I went home that night with my head swimming with information. I was dazzled at the wonder that lay right above my pubic bone, my uterus. She had been a stranger to me, almost an enemy at times. But as I learned more about her, the more respect I felt for what she was capable of doing. I also noticed my fear of being pregnant dissipating.



During the second day of class, we actually got to have hands-on massage time. Since I did not have a massage training, I mostly watched and massaged the feet. I got to practice some of the neck strokes since they are easier to learn. I felt a little bit of trepidation as I began massaging one of the pregnant women who came in to be a practice body. I felt like I would brake her if I touched her.


After the day's work, we all sat in our circle again, sharing our thoughts and feelings about what we had learned and our experiences that day. I decided to take this time to open up about my fear regarding pregnancy. I shared with the women that my mother had lost her first baby in a miscarriage. She had carried this child for 36 weeks. At her last appointment, the doctor could not locate a heart beat. They induced her the next day, and she gave birth to a baby that couldn't cry and that they didn't take home.



This story was something my mother had told me at quite a young age and I think I never really processed this dramatic news properly. Also, my mother was pregnant with me 6 months after this baby was lost. I moved in after my sister moved out, and I think that the nervousness and tension from my mom being pregnant again affected me even in utero. She told me in later years that she was very nervous with me, even as an infant. She suspected that I picked up on her tension. So that's what I grew up with.



As and adult, I still carried the pain I had sensed in my mother. I also added to it my own fears, compounding it deeper and deeper inside, hiding it where no one could find it....until I attended Pregnancy Massage Certification Class. On Saturday night, my fears were dug out of the earth and released in a profound dream I had.