Like bad ass flowing water

I reluctantly turned down a perfect margarita on the rocks at the lively Mexican restaurant we were dining at. I had to drive the whole kit and caboodle back to my mom's house in upstate NY and the roads are tricky there at night. 

It was a good thing I didn't indulge.

Fifteen minutes into our drive we had to shut off the radio, get the kids to stop fighting and seriously focus on the road because we were suddenly caught in a thunderstorm so intense it felt like an end-of-the-world action film.

I’ve never seen that much water fall that hard and that quickly. And for miles and miles and miles. I kept my calm for the kids but I was freaking the hell out. 

It reminded me how bad ass water can be. It’s super discreet until it’s totally not. And it never seems to try that hard. 

It doesn't second guess itself and wonder:

"How am I going to get around this thing?” 

“Is this too much?” 

“Am I allowed to be here?“

"Should I be doing it this way?"

Nope. It just flows. Over, through, around or in-between with a force that’s relentless, rhythmic, mesmerizing. 

I’m fascinated by the concept of “flow.” Being in it. Watching it. Seeing what comes out of it. 

My favorite part of my visualization workshop is when the group arranges their cut-out imagery on their vision boards with my R&B play list going on in the background. 

Everyone's so focused and absorbed by what they’re doing there’s this humming flow to their movements. With little time to question their moves, they just have to go with what feels right. 

Like bad ass flowing water. 

When we behave like water we learn a lot about what we naturally migrate towards. 

What we do when we are at our intuitive best. When everything feels totally in sync and easy and fluid. 

For me that happens on a few specific occasions. 

• When I cook. 
• When I converse. 
• When I walk. 
• When I coach.
• When I write. 

We so often over-complicate things. Try to force ourselves to be or become someone that we’re not. But what if there was less friction and more flow to our goals and our desires?

Try that idea on for size if you want with these questions:

• In what three situations do you intuitively know what to do?
• What's going on in those moments? 
• How does it feel to be there?
• How often do you allow yourself to go there?
• What would happen if you strengthened that flow in you?
• Where would that get you?

PS. Speaking of "flow," there’s a three-hour Life Flow exercise that I love that clarifies desires based on natural tendencies, strengths and passions. At the end of the experience you’ll know exactly what steps you need to take right now to bring your goals to life.  

I don’t usually offer Life Flow as a stand-alone coaching exercise, but it’s a great tool to get through the overwhelm of Fall in order to find your footing to move ahead with confidence during this tricky time of the year. 

Book a free discovery call to learn more about my Life Flow experience (price 340€) 

What is lâcher prise and how can you find yours in time for summer?

I’m not someone who gets easily riled up. I have a pretty even temperament.

So when I feel my insides start to boil up and spill all over the stovetop, I try to slide my pot off the heat source, cool down, and get a sense of what’s going on. 

That's often easier said than done. For example, during my coaching certification my emotions were on a steady, rolling, boil. 

I was being pulled so far out of my comfort zone on such a regular basis that my natural defense system was desperate to get some order in the court. 
 

What specifically got me so hot and bothered?

Feeling completely and totally out of control. 

I wanted so bad to know everything about coaching, be an instant master, understand the complete history of the field, and basically be the best coach in the world. All in one week. What?? What’s so crazy about that? 

My mentor-coach, Caroline, had the uncanny ability to see through skin. One day when I was particularly vocal about my frustrations, she said, “I hear you, but what would happen if you decided to trust the process and let go?” 

My eyes started to swirl around in their sockets like in a Bugs Bunny cartoon. 
 

Trust the process? Let go? how the hell do you do that?

How do you let go when you want something so bad? How do you let go when your instincts tell you that the more you control what you want, the faster you’ll get it?

I went through the same thought-process when I was trying to have my first baby. It was taking us a very long time to conceive. Years. It was all I could think about. The subject of every conversation. The motivation behind every decision.

And everyone kept telling me to stop thinking about it. But I was like, how do you NOT think about the thing you want most? Any why should I try?

The answer has to do with how our brain budgets the distribution and flow of energy. If we focus on what we lack, what we're desperately trying to control, on all that's missing in our search for perfection, we'll fuel those thoughts until they shape our reality both emotionally and physically. 

This brings me to one of the best French inventions ever. Not wine, not cheese. But the concept of lâcher prise. 
 

Ah, "lâcher prise," just saying the word and my heart stops racing, the knots around my nerves start to relax, their grip softening until a calm wave of "whatever" starts to rise up in its place.  

In French the term literally means “release the grip.” In English we'd say "let it go."

"Prise" in French also means "electrical socket," so the image that comes to my mind when I say "lâcher prise" is of someone ripping a cord out of the wall. 

Removing an external energy source. Unplugging. 
 

Let the energy come from the inside, instead of the outside. 
 

I just did a visualization workshop and “lâcher prise” came up over and over again as a desired attitude, or mindset in order to move deep goals forward calmly, without stress or anxiety. 

"Lâcher prise" has become a metaphysical Holy Grail. There’s even a new floral elixir from Bach dedicated to lâcher prise in order to free “prisoners of fixed ideas and obsessions.”

While I’m sure the elixir is wonderful, there’s is, however, no one-size-fits-all spritz solution to cultivating "lâcher prise."

It's about identifying and letting go of fears, letting go of negative thoughts, cultivating confidence and trust (in yourself, and in others), developing your curiosity, your patience, your intuition, and your genuine belief that you will find the answers at your own pace and on your own agenda. 

So here are some questions that might help you find your personalized potion for lâcher prise:

• What are you desperately holding on to? 
   
• How is that important to you?


• What would happened if you loosened your grip on that  just a wee bit?
   
• Where would you feel that in your body?
   
• How would that softening impact you emotionally?
   
• What changes might that provoke in your life professionally and personally?
   
• What can you easily start doing today to loosen things up a bit? 
   
• What support do you need to start? 

As always, I am here for you in your "lâcher prise" journey. Hit reply or leave a comment and let me know where you could benefit from some "lâcher prise" in your life.

And it goes without saying that no matter where you are in the world, you should definitely start using that term on a regular basis. 

How I Got Over My Fear Of Cold Showers Using Visualization

Minutes after the French won their nail-biting match against Argentina during the World Cup, my husband noticed a giant water splotch the shape of Russia on our carpet. 
 

We looked at it and immediately blamed it on our 2-year old. He’s at an age where he will only drink from big cups and when he does he opens his mouth so wide that he spills 89% of the water on himself and the ground. He refuses to go with a smaller cup.  #toddlerdetermination #whyaretheylikethis

But after 30 minutes that water splotch started to brazenly conquer new land. We ran over to the hot water heater, felt the ground, and realized we had a huge problem. We had a leaky tank and it was the weekend and no repair service was open. 
 

My husband is pretty handy. He figured out how to stop the leak, shut off the electricity on the heater while keeping the cold water running in the house. So we have water, thank god, but it is cold as a cucumber. 

Now, as I said, Paris is having a heatwave so it’s not like we’re freezing our tushies off in the house. But still, a cold shower is a cold shower, and I don’t like cold. In fact I hate the cold. Hate it, hate it, hate it. HATE it! My 25% Greek genes are to blame for my extreme intolerance. 

Thinking of showering in cold water (with not even a little warm water to cheat) makes my shoulders bolt up and my chest heave in. 

I immediately think of Surprise Lake Camp in Cold Springs, NY, the summer day camp that I went to as a pre-teen. I signed up for swimming class there (like a fool) and we often had to practice early morning when the lake was super cold. I remember that horrible feeling of jumping in, my breath seizing up for a couple of seconds before I got used to the temperature. It was the worst feeling. 

Well that was what I felt again when I thought about my upcoming shower. 

My husband’s advice about my impeding shower was to just go for it. Not to dance around and delay the torture, just embrace it. 


I didn’t like that idea. So I texted my friend Lili who has been very vocal on her blog about her daily cold shower ritual. I told her my situation and asked her advice about how to do the cold shower in a more gentle and humane way. 

Her instructions were totally compelling, clear and easy to follow. 
 

• Massage your body with oil before getting in the shower
• Introduce the cold water to your feet and hands first
• Work the water up to your chest
• Breath deeply and then scream if you have to!
• Then shower your back, arm pits, arms, etc :) 
• Don’t direct water to your thighs (they have a lot of veins, and you don’t want a flush of blood there)
• Don’t let the water go above your chin
• Wash your head/hair in a sink with warm water (boiled in my case)
• Feel amazing and alive after your shower. 

So, I've been following her instructions to a T since and I have to say I feel like a million bucks afterwards. My skin is silken smooth, taught and tingly in a good way for hours . 

Why should you care about my cold shower story? Well because the whole process is a great example of how visualization works. 
 

• We often fear the unknown because the experience we predict reminds us of something we already lived through and didn’t enjoy. (e.g. swimming early morning in a cold lake at sleepaway camp)
   
• We think we can’t possible get over our fear because we are just built that way and lack the resources. (e.g. my Greek genes making me unable to like cold).
   
• By imagining someone else, someone not so different from us, even an ideal version of ourselves overcome that challenge, we start to realize that there might in fact be a way to move ahead (e.g. remembering Lili's love of showers)
   
• By projecting into the future, and then retro-planning how to get there, our brain becomes more familiar with the task (e.g. preloading Lili's step-by-step action plan)
   
• Our excitement to accomplish our end goal helps us find the motivating and energy to get us there (e.g. the excitement of feeling alive and amazing after shower)

So next time you’re confronted with a challenge that chills you to the core try to find the root of the feeling. 

And know there there is someone in the world that overcame a similar obstacle. How were they able to do it? What action steps did they take? How could you do the same? How would that feel once you overcame your fear?

What shower challenge you're working through right now?  Write a comment below or email me directly at zeva@zevebellel.com and let me know what you've got going on! 

Wonder Women: Lean In, Lean Out, Toughen Up, Soften Up, Be Your Best or Just Be?

My coaching is focused predominantly on women. I coach high-potential, creative women in multicultural environments that have a special spark in them that hasn’t been fully nurtured yet. Maybe they know their spark well, maybe they don’t, but they feel it bubbling under their skin like spaghetti sauce at a slow simmer. They feel its presence, can smell its aroma, but they haven’t plated it, tasted it and shared it with the world yet. And they know that if they don’t start facing, listening, and stoking that spark with the nourishment that it longs for they will regret it forever. And who wants to die with those kinds of regrets?

I don’t want it for me and I don’t want it for other women.

That’s why I coach.

I realize how intense and confusing the messaging is for women these days.

There’s so much attention on the modern women and her potential. According to everything you read these days, women are poised to take over the universe, but how? Are we supposed to lean all the way in à la Sheryl and claim our seat on the executive board? Are we supposed to lean out of the traditional rat race and create alternative communities that, by design, put our needs first? Are we supposed to work hard to quiet our inner demons, slice them out of our minds as the limiting social and cultural constructs that they are? Or embrace ourselves fully and just be who we are, warts, demons, doubts and all?

I don’t have the answer to these questions. But this is what I do believe about how to approach the three major themes important to today’s woman: identity, vocation and success.

Identity

Personal development is your life’s work, your masterpiece. Invest in it however you can.

You don’t have to change who you are, but you don’t have to be the person that you’ve always been.

Be curious about the beliefs, systems and habits that no longer serve you. Examine them like an incessant child would with a million whys. Knowing them intimately will help them fade away.

Vocation

You are a national living treasure. What makes you truly special? When you can identify that you’ll know what needs to be nurtured most.

You have already done extraordinary things. How did you do them? What was the fuel that kept you focused and fired up?

When are you in the zone? What’s preventing you from being in it more often?

Success

Comparison sucks. If there was no model for success what would yours look like? How would it feel? What would you be doing and saying to yourself each day?

What are the things that you refuse to compromise at all costs? These are your values. Embrace them. When opportunities arise that undermine them, investigate.

Project yourself 5 years into the future and think about your birthday party. Who is there? What are they saying about you? What are you saying to yourself on this day that celebrates all that you’ve done and become since birth?

Is this leaning in or out, going hard or strong? I have no idea. But my belief is that good work doesn’t have to be hard when one’s identity, vocation and definition of success are aligned.

How Do You Know When It's Time To Get On That Plane?

I’ve done two totally terrifying things in my life.

1. Move to France 18 years ago

2. Give birth to my second son sans meds

Every other experience I’ve had in my 43 years on this planet pales in comparison on the “holy shit I don’t think I can do this” spectrum. I’ve often thought about these two moments as seminal “warrior woman” milestones in my life. So massively hard but unthinkably rewarding they’ve come to symbolize a source of strength and determination in me that I didn’t know I had.

If anyone had told me as a teenager that I’d wind up living in France for 18 years and that I’d pop out a child without any pain relief, I’d had surely thought they were talking about a much stronger, braver, resilient person than I could possibly be. But how did that become me?

What is that power that lies in us that can lay dormant for years and then at some point, often when we least expect it, swell into an awesomeness that knocks our fears out of the way and takes charge for us?

I want to know that again. I want to harness that potential again. So as I explore the next chapter in my life, I’d like to try and pin-point what allows those leaps to occur. What are the elements in play, both consciously and unconsciously, that can move our mountain of fear and anxiety out of the way so that something magical can take its place?

MOVING TO PARIS:

When I moved to Paris I left everything behind: my whole family, all of my friends, my job, my boyfriend, my four (!) cats. It was leaping into a proverbial blank canvas. I had no job set up, no apartment, just my friend Jessica who offered me to stay in her place in Paris for as long as I needed while I figured things out.

I was a nervous wreck the months leading up to my departure. My heart and head were doing a hundred thousand pirouettes each day pulling and prodding me to question the decision I had made. I even had my first (and thankfully) last panic attack. But I knew I had to go. I was just going to vomit my insides out every time I thought of it. The logistical planning was a torturous, drawn-out perforated process with holes that I felt I would leap through, burrow into and hide within to escape the decision I had made.

Where would I store my stuff?
How and when would I quit my job?
How much money would I need to live off of while figuring my shit out?
What kind of health insurance would I need overseas? (I know, so American!)

The hardest part was not really knowing how long to plan for. What kind of good byes were required. Was this the big kick-off? Do I need to cancel credit cards? What about if I get called to jury duty, am I technically here or there? Of course there was some mega emotional drama with the relationship I was leaving behind. But that’s for another story (maybe).

So what actually helped me to finally make the leap? I remember two very clear “clicks.”

One, I had a distinct desire to clone myself and leave one of my clones in New York while the other ran off to Paris. It was a very logical solution that would comfort the people in NY who I cared about, who would miss me, and who I was scared to hurt by leaving behind. But where did the real Zeva want to be, I asked? My gut knew: SHE was going to Paris!

The second “click” came from my incredible therapist who I had been seeing for a year. Initially a bit dubious about the Paris dream which she thought was an escape from unresolved issues, over time she started to welcome the idea and help me visualize what that process would look like. What the steps would be to help me get there while continuing to do the work required not to leave any stones unturned back home.

When she and I were in synch with the plan and as the plot started to thicken with realness, as in my plane is scheduled to leave in a week and I don’t think I can get on it, she said the most powerful 8 words anyone could have said to me at that time: “You just need to get on the plane.”

I knew she was right. I needed to prove to myself that I had the guts to do it. To get on that plane. To confront my fears of change, of leaving everything that was comfortable to me to embrace that voice inside of me that was beckoning me elsewhere. What was helpful with her statement was that it removed “forever” out of the equation. What happens next, happens next, not now. Now, I just need to get on that plane.

I have used that term as a mantra in other situations, and it continues to serve me (and others) well. Sometimes, you just need to get on the plane. The journey is often as important (if not more important) then the destination. And what’s the worst thing that could happen? When you land, you can always turn back.

How Losing Control Can Make Your Fierce

Have you ever wondered what might possess a woman to voluntarily sign-up for the most painful experience of her life? To choose extreme, hell on earth discomfort when its opposite (or a relative cousin of its opposite) is a socially, medically, and financially-viable option?

If you have, you’re in the right place. In the second installment of my two-part series on the most frightening things I’ve ever done in my life (and what I learned in the aftermath), I’ll delve into my unexpected, voluntary experience giving birth without any meds.

Choosing the path of least resistance

I have a few friends who have always been militant about wanting to give birth without an epidural. They would talk about it matter of factly as if it were no big thing. I remember thinking to myself. WTF? What’s wrong with you girl? I just couldn’t understand the logic.

So when my time came to decide between meds or no meds for my first son’s birth I was like “hook me up with the drugs!” I’m no masochist. I hate pain. I’m a totally wuss. I don’t like roller coasters. I’ve never broken a bone. I never even ever had a cavity. What do I know about suffering?

How could I possibly predict how my body would handle that degree of discomfort if I’ve never experienced anything more painful than having my wisdom teeth removed under general anesthesia?

On the big day something totally unpredictable happened, though.

This being France, the Gods of irony decided that it would be hilarious to throw a huge LABOR strike in my neighborhood on the day that I went into LABOR!! That’s right. When we went to call for a cab to take me to the hospital (which to make matters even worse was located on the other side of town) we were told that we’d have to wait two hours because all traffic was at a standstill.

We had no other solution than to wait the two hours at the house and try out the breathing techniques and different poses that my husband and I learned together during the pre-labor lessons (preparation à la naissance) that were subsidized by the government. In an effort to keep the spirits high and not panic, we tried to have fun with it like two kids play-acting an adult scenario:“OK, now get into that crouching frog position while you grab onto my arms like a tree.”

It was totally surreal and goofy and in the moment I wasn’t as terrified about it as I thought I’d be.

After two hours of squatting and shifting around shenanigans the taxi finally arrived. We headed downstairs, and made our way slowly across town through the side streets, passing picketers, sirens and the general bruhaha of the protest. When we finally got to the maternité, they wired me up and said that I was already 5 cm dilated and can get my epidural! Wooohaaaa!! Yes.

Too Much Of A Good Thing

After the epidural I became so sedate and listless that I felt completely disconnected from my body. I couldn’t feel anything from my waist down. The first dose had been too intense. They actually threw one of those shiny survival blankets over me at some point because my body was shivering uncontrollably. Even so, I was super scared for the effects to wear off right as things got really intense. So when I started to feel the contractions again I panicked and asked for another dose.

When it came time to push I literally couldn’t feel anything. It was a totally abstract experience complicated even further by the fact that as I entered into a sort of birthing bubble, I couldn’t understand a single word of French anymore.

My doctors instructions to breath in, hold, breath out, push, were all jumbled up and I had no friggen idea what any of it meant.

Luckily my husband was there to translate the instructions and help me relax and focus and after twenty minutes of abstract pushing and some alarms beeping and forceps coming out I had my beautiful baby in my arms. Quickly, the craziness of the birth was eclipsed by the craziness of parenting and that birthing adventure was a done deal.

Sensory Gymnastics And My Magical Midwife

I didn’t really think much about all of the details of the delivery and how I would have done things differently for five years until baby #2 was close to arrival.

Two months before my due date I was suddenly in a panic because I had no pre-natal courses lined up and I felt a bit rusty and nervous about the impending event. I had done the traditional course cycle for #1, and given how that worked out I was very eager to see what skills I could pick up to make it a smoother experience. When I stumbled across a sage femmespecialized in something called “gymnastique sensorielle perinatal” (pre-natal sensory gymnastics) my curiosity was piqued!! Images of Esther Williams doing cartwheels and summersaults into a MGM-olympic sized pool came to mind.

What hooked me right away was my first call with the midwife, Johanna, who offered the courses. She asked about the details of my first delivery and when I said that I was looking for a way to “have more control” during the birth, she laughed and said gently, “If there is one moment that we can’t control it’s the moment you bring a life into the world. But what we can do is learn techniques that will help you manage the stress and pain that any situation may produce.” While I had no idea what she had in mind, I like the message and was ready to dive in.

What a Tightrope Walker Taught Me About Giving Birth

Do you know Philippe Petit? The French tight-rope walker who crossed the Twin Towers on a tight rope stretched between the two towers, 1,350 feet above the ground? He apparently trained for 6 years to prepare his mind and his body to be able to adapt to the extreme conditions of the insane walk, which included:

— the gaping, unforgiving void under his feet
 — the waffling movements of the tightrope
 — the thick gusts of wind against his body
 — the stress of having a fleet of police officers waiting to arrest him if he didn’t plummet to his death first.

In my own way I was on a quest to access a similar zone of confidence and strength even with thick gusts of fear and pain trying to knock me off my game.

Over the course of the next two months my main mission with Johanna was to create a physical and mental anchor that I could harness no matter what crazy occurred during delivery.

Growing Roots Out of My Feet and Branches Out of My Hands

How did she train me? It was the exact opposite of a rigorous, sweat-filled boot camp. The challenge was to moor my body while barely moving it. I had to glide my knees from one side of my body to the next while balancing on a bouncy ball, trying to stay steady and upright while slowing the motion down to a imperceptible crawl.

To stay balanced during these super slight moves she had me visualize my legs growing roots out of my feet and branches spurting out of my hands.

The key would be to accompany the contractions using these super slight movements, grounding the pain out of my body like a lighting rod plundering a bolt down into the ground during an electrical storm.

What you don’t want: having that pain writhing around your body with no exit door.

Even though I was totally behind the philosophy and loved the practice, I still wasn’t convinced that I could really do it. While Johanna believed in me 100%, she didn’t pressure me at all. In fact she was surprisingly cool about my ambivalence and said that even with an epidural I would still be able to use the techniques.

It was when my husband joined the conversation and hinted that he thought I could do it was I comfortable and confident to at least give it a try. Knowing that he saw that potential in me, that he believed I could do it, was a huge source of motivation and a turning point in my decision to give this crazy thing ago. We even volunteered to be guinea pigs during a sensory gymnastics midwife training session.

How To Train A Control Freak To Embrace The Unexpected?

One of the reasons I felt I could do this thing was that Johanna (and everyone else) predicted that the birth would go super fast since it was my second delivery. Before I knew it the baby would be there, I was told. My concern would be to get to the clinic super fast so that the baby wouldn’t show up en route.

Once again, we learned that expectations and reality are two opposing forces when it comes to babies.

The delivery was not fast at all. I arrived at am on Wednesday and was told that the baby would come that day. But after 12 hours of contractions with no change in dilation, my doctor suggested we induce. I had been doing my exercises throughout the day, managing the pain relatively well, but my body wasn’t advancing.

Every few hours a midwife would show up and check on me and declare that I was still at 4cm. It was beyond frustrating. I didn’t want to induce because I knew then that the pain would skyrocket off the charts, and that was truly terrifying. I was able to manage the slow and steady increase in intensity like the sun lightening up the morning sky. But an induction would have been a lightning bolt through my system. No thank you.

There was also no medical reason to induce. It’s just that my doctor was ending his shift and wasn’t on call the following day so it was now with him, or another day without him. I decided to continue on without induction, and entered into a second sleepless night of contractions. Luckily I discovered the bath on the top floor of the clinic, where my husband was allowed set up some Chet Baker and candlelight.

There was something moody and Woody Allen-esque about the whole thing. Me in a giant bath delirious with fatigue, listing to Chet Baker and marveling at the surreal beauty of the Paris rooftops while catching a break in between contractions, pressing my hands and feet against the edges of the bath to ground the pain.

But the boy still wasn’t ready to make an appearance! Come 8am the following day I was still at 4cm and my doctor decided to send me home to wait there for things to progress.

The pain reached a whole new level back home. It felt like my insides were like a piece of raw beef beaten tendered by Sylvester Stallone in Rocky. All I wanted was a chance to sleep but the contractions kept me awake. Finally at 3am things started to intensify, the contractions were coming more quickly, and I was determined that the end was near. The pain at this point was off the charts, and I just couldn’t deal anymore. I woke my husband up and told him we had to get back to the clinic to end the torture.

Once there, I was place on a bed to check vitals. It took 45 minutes to take the readings and the entire time I had to stay in an upright position: no bouncy ball, no bath, no crouching or anchoring my feet on the ground to help with the pain. I had to find a way to relieve the pain while being tethered and somehow found relief by pressing my hands into my knees and my feet into the bed.

Just Do What You Can’t

When the midwife came back I was convinced I was just about ready to push, but no, I was still around 5–6cm!! That was it. No more for me. I asked the midwife how long until my doctor could get there: one hour. And how long until the anesthesiologist could get there to give me an epidural: one hour.

I didn’t know what to do! Enough is enough.

My husband reminded me of the bath and how much good that did me the previous night. I just couldn’t fathom ant more of this and said, “I don’t think I can do it, it’s just too much. I don’t know what to do.” He just responded “But Zeva, you are doing it.”

How many times do we limit ourselves because we fear following through with something really hard? We just can’t imagine ourselves being that person who succeeds. It’s the impression of our limitations rather than the reality of our capabilities that dominates our decisions.

My husband’s words cut right threw my doubts, I was doing this. I was that women that I never imagined I could be. Why would I turn back now? I was so damn close.

So I jumped back into that bath and things starting accelerating at a much faster rate, the contractions were coming every minute now. As soon as I caught my breath another tsunami of pain would start up again. I pressed against the sides of the bath with all of my strength as my husband massaged my lower back to relieve the pain. It was totally insane.

Johanna had warned me that at around 9cm women who are on the cusp of giving birth panic and want meds. It’s something to do with the baby’s head passing over some super sensitive area on its journey out and it triggers your brain to say “enough!” That happened to me again. And when it did I begged my husband to make it stop and get Jose’s (the male midwife’s) help.

As soon as José saw me on all fours he was like, ok, come out, you’re ready. I had several more contractions on the walk down to the delivery room. It was a bit comical. Once there, José had me climb up on the table, he examined me a said with a huge smile. “You’re at 10cm, next time you have a contraction, push”. Holy shit, I couldn’t believe it. I pushed twice and my husband said, “I can see his head, Zeva.” One more push and our little baby was out, no drama, no lights, no forceps, no beeps, no tension, no fogginess in the brain. Everything was so calm, so simple.

As my heart expanded, so did my sense of accomplishment and pride. By accepting, and training myself, to embrace the unexpected and the inevitable lose of control, I was able to experience something so profound.

I don’t always feel invincible, believe me, but often when I’m up against a challenge, be it professional, personal, physical, I ground myself in the strength of my past and grow roots out of my legs as I stretch my head up into the sky.

Whatever it is that you want, doing it is infinitely simpler than the pain and stress of self-doubt.