Birth, babies, and a little waiting.

We're about to welcome a shiny new soul into our family; she will be here any time.  And while I've been waiting for happy news, I've been thinking, rather nervously, about bodies and souls and pain. 


Pain is such a strange thing, and really, our bodies have no way of remembering its potency. Even the very second after I pushed Danny from inside of me and out into the world, the deepest, splitting pain I had ever felt in my life was somehow gone. Instantly. And except for that sweet, tiny voice, and my beating heart, everything that was so loud before, was quiet; a moment entirely filled with God.


I own that moment. I took that journey. I balanced on that razor sharp edge. I felt my body (and heart) split wide open. And I remember screaming through that last deafening pain that pulled my baby through that veil and straight into my earthly arms. I shook, and wept and felt holy. This work and pain of labor is holy. It was whispered to my soul at the very end.  


What a journey that even the worst pain could not keep me from wanting to experience over and over again.



[Courtney and her husband delivered their third baby, together, alone, in their upstairs bedroom of their home in Utah last week. Her home birth has somewhat convinced me about my own round three (if there should be one someday). While this is only a part of her birth story, you should read the rest of the story here.] 

When it was time to push I was tired. It had only been over an hour since we had started transitioning, but it had been intense. Up until that point Chup had been with me, with every contraction and seeing to my every need. But this was the place where he couldn't really do much for me. This was that lonely spot in the process where I had to find all the strength and faith inside of me to push. Another contraction pounded my body and I felt my spirit start to leave my body--a dizzy feeling of losing consciousness. I felt it with Ever too. Part of me had resolved that death is part of birthing life. I had to die a little to get enough courage to cross the line of mortality and bring my baby with me.