You would think that singers would be natural parents. We know all about self-sacrifice, sleepless nights, working for little money and sometimes no recognition, and staying focused on our goals. We know what it is to sustain a long devotion in the same direction, and to get up each day choosing to recommit ourselves to our art.
In spite of this, however, I must confess that I was equally terrified and exhilarated when my husband and I discovered we were going to have a child. What would this new life do to my body, my voice, and my aspirations? How would I honor the commitments that I had for the coming months, and would I be judged for making this leap into the world of parenthood within an industry that often declares the two are mutually exclusive? Was I ready to add the role of mother to my repertoire?
As I grappled with these and other questions, I knew in my heart that I was blessed and called to this new role, that in time each of my questions and fears would be answered. What I longed for, however, was some advice, singer to singer, about what to expect.
I was unaware at the time of www.operamom.com, an excellent resource that addresses common concerns and issues of pregnancy, parenthood, singing, and careers. In addition to providing a wealth of helpful information and articles, the website is an online community of support for the singing parent.
At the time of my pregnancy, I had commitments throughout the coming season right up until two weeks prior to my due date. Initially, I made the decision to keep my personal and professional lives separate by not announcing my pregnancy. I am tall and found it relatively easy to conceal my growth and weight gains. I was, however, nervous about my voice, and not sure how all of the hormonal changes in my body would affect my instrument. Furthermore, once I hit the six-week mark, I began to feel very nauseated and fatigued.
I didn’t get physically ill on a regular basis, but I felt sick all day, every day. I struggled with this for more than two months—but I never missed a gig during that time, in part because I quickly discovered that when I was singing, I didn’t have time to think about how bad I was feeling. I was not suffering from edema of the vocal cords or acute acid reflux, common problems in pregnancy that could have forced me to stop singing until controlled, so I continued with my normal schedule. This perseverance turned out to be a gift, a gift that helped set me on the track towards continuing to sing up to the time of delivery.
The area of my technique on which my pregnancy had the most profound impact was breath support. With the passing of the months and the many changes in my body, I found that I constantly had to reevaluate how to support the sound properly. In retrospect, I should have been thinking more about support before I became pregnant. I have a lighter voice that floats easily and I often neglected to fully engage my body and sing with core in the sound.
My growing abdomen prevented me from ignoring my body or taking it for granted. It was a continual reminder to consciously think through support, to search to find a connection to the solar plexus, and engage my body in my singing. This was a constant challenge. I found various ways of negotiating the necessary support in each trimester, but it wasn’t easy. I have found, however, that this time of evaluation and consistent work has paid off, postpartum—I am now more fully aware of my body and breath capabilities than I was prior to having my baby.
Vocally, I have heard a wide range of opinions about pregnancy and its effect on the voice. Most singers believe that the hormonal changes can add depth and color. It is my experience that singers most often reap those benefits after delivery, rather than during the actual pregnancy. I didn’t experience difficulty in vocalizing while I was pregnant, or afterwards, but I have known singers whose voices became unstable, who suffered from persistent acid reflux, from the baby pushing on their diaphragm, or from a general sense of disconnection with their changing bodies.
In my interviews of friends and colleagues, it appears that abnormally high weight gains during pregnancy exacerbated all of the above situations. By continuing to sing and staying active throughout my pregnancy, I was able to maintain a healthy weight gain and this, I believe, helped to stabilize my voice. I toured as Gretel, singing my final show two weeks prior to delivery, and had a very productive voice lesson the day prior to giving birth. I believe that singing helped keep me in shape and helped to prepare my body for the many challenges of labor.
When we were preparing for the delivery of our child, my husband and I were convinced that between my knowledge of breath control for singing, my active yoga practice, and our work with a doula, I would sail through delivery without complication. Who better than a singer to know how to connect with the breath and focus on a goal? Reality, however, differed from my expectations.
Prior to the delivery, I had already intended to get an epidural. I have singer and non-singer friends who have bravely chosen, and actually enjoyed, the experience of natural childbirth. I, however, doubted my ability to keep the muscles in my throat unengaged, and I was nervous about needlessly stressing the larynx. And then, of course, there was the reality of the pain. After experiencing my water breaking and the intensity of pain at less than five centimeters dilation, I had no doubt that I wanted an epidural as soon as possible. I wasn’t able to think about anything but the pain.
Once the epidural went in, my entire disposition changed. I was able to relax, to breathe again, and to converse rationally. When it was time to push, however, I saw the first drawback to an epidural: The numbness in my lower body required that the nurses coach me in the most effective means of pushing. I did find a rhythm—it was hard work, but I felt relatively peaceful and connected to my breath, all the while anticipating that Kodak moment where the doctor sweeps up the newborn and places her on your chest.
I continued this way for more than two hours, at which point I had to let go of my expectations. The baby wasn’t descending and the medical team was planning a Cesarean section.
I was incredibly emotional and disappointed. This was not the way I had pictured things in my mind—and I definitely wasn’t eager for abdominal surgery. Fortunately, I have a wonderful husband who kept me focused on the goal while allowing me to grieve my idealized image of delivery. Our baby finally arrived and was, as all babies are to their parents, the most beautiful and amazing thing we had ever seen.
The Cesarean birth required more healing than I had anticipated. Naively, I ignored the sage advice of fellow singers to allow plenty of time postpartum before returning to work, and I accepted a small church gig less than one month after the birth. I was not yet at the point of vocalizing again regularly, my abdomen was still healing, and my stomach muscles were the consistency of a sponge. As I sang that day, I knew I had made a mistake, and I was grateful that it was a short, isolated job.
The following week, I returned to my teacher, and she helped me begin to rebuild my abdominal strength with short, concentrated breaths where I pumped the abdomen on [fi]. I incorporated that exercise throughout the day, and the muscles responded. I also followed a conservative approach in my return to vocalizing, seeking to regain range and duration gradually. After my initial overestimation, I saw the wisdom in slowly rebuilding my voice and reorienting myself with my body. Difficult as it was to rebuild my abdominal strength and endurance, it was a delight to work without a basketball attached to my diaphragm!
Since the arrival of our baby girl, I have had many experiences where the challenges of being a mother and a singer have confounded, exhausted, and overwhelmed me. I would describe my pregnancy as relatively routine—but we met incredible challenges in the early months of our daughter’s life. For me, the single most difficult of those challenges was the cumulative sleep deprivation. After seven straight months of interrupted sleep, this normally sensitive, emotional, and dramatic individual felt she was bordering on insanity. During that time, I overestimated and underestimated myself as a parent, wife, and singer—repeatedly.
I have ranted and raved about the complexity of my new life and how a simple voice lesson now requires coordinating four schedules. With each day, however, I am realizing that at the core of my being, I am inherently changed because of this new life. I am more in the moment than ever before. I am more aware of the preciousness of life. I am more able to empathize with the pain of others, and more cognizant of the fact that I have very little control over life, that I must faithfully do what is before me each day and surrender the rest. All of these lessons are invaluable to me as a person, as a mother, and as a singer.
It isn’t easy, and I often feel I have more questions than answers, but I know I am a richer, more contented, calmer, freer, and less selfish person than I was before this child arrived. Each time I open my mouth to sing, whether on stage or to my little girl, I know that I am blessed. And this, to me, is life; a life more fully lived, more artistic, more intentional, and for which I am deeply grateful.
