When I was 17 years old, I took care of my little sister, Julieta, because my mother worked. Julieta and I had formed a close bond, but I had to drift apart from her as I began to chart my path, looking for the university where I would study. Ever since, motherhood has been a subject that I've been excited to learn about, perhaps because I saw my little sisters being born and growing up, but I also questioned myself, always believing that there were other ways of being a mother.
In 2017, I was studying Communications when I decided to research the subject. The first thing I did was look for film archives close to my context, San Juan Chamula, in order to further understand the Tsotsil world's conception of motherhood. The difficulty of uncovering this subject made it all the more important to me, as a Tsotsil woman and filmmaker, to bring it to the big screen.
I carried out extensive research with women in my family circle, and also with midwives and rezadoras (ones who pray). All of their past feelings overflowed in their stories. The women of my community have always maintained the oral richness, rituality, mythical and mystical nature of our way of understanding the world in San Juan. It was then that I decided to sit and begin to slowly weave this story.
Based on a conversation with my mother, I discovered the existence of a very particular prayer that is offered to babies before their birth. It consists of the midwife or healer offering candles, flowers, pox (liquor) and a prayer where she mentions many elements of our culture and asks the goddesses to please look after the girl or boy who is on the way. My mother told me that this prayer is a gift for the mother and her baby, to ask for the wellbeing of both on the day of birth, but her comadre, a healer, told us that nobody prays for this anymore. This prayer of the mother and child that we have inherited from our mothers, grandmothers and grandfathers, has faded over time. Nonetheless, she prayed for my future pregnancy.
Motherhood, which we always associate with happiness and love, also comes with fears. I was 25 years old when I decided to get pregnant. I thought I knew everything, but this wasn't the case. It was a wonderful stage in which I saw my stomach grow and felt his movements inside my body, but it was also distressing, since I had a tough pregnancy. Giving life brings with it joy and uncertainty, two emotions that it is illogical to feel at the same time and which arise on the day of labor. During the postpartum stage, in order to strengthen myself both emotionally and physically, it was important that the knowledge of my mother, grandmother, as well as my partner's mother, accompanied me.
“Moon Belly” explores this knowledge of Tsotsil women and these emotions that a woman feels when she decides to become a mother, a moment that is as beautiful as it is challenging.
