Your birth story.

Here we are. I still can’t believe it. We did it and I’m so proud of us.

What a wonder it has been to experience this season of life, one we shifted and grew through together, one your soul always knew would be happening and that mine craved. This was our destiny and I’m so glad I spent months studying childbirth from a physiologic perspective while going through my shadow work to ensure our labour and your delivery weren’t interrupted by sprinklings of stale, old patterns and emotions from my subconscious and ego. Good thing that side of me was already cracked, ready to break open. During the months leading up, an immense amount of growth and development emerged from me and I have you (and many lovely practitioners) to thank in helping get me there, but I will humbly take a hefty load of credit for the massive shift in my personhood from conception to delivery.

Now more than six weeks postpartum, I’ve completed your birth story. It took me a while, granted we were falling deeply and rapidly in love with you and each other all over again in the immediate postpartum, but now I’ve come up for air to purposely dedicate time to get this experience out of my head and onto paper.

I wanted to write this especially for you, but also for me, our family, and anyone in need of a reason to believe in themself, to explore a new (old) way of birthing driven from the mother-baby relationship and supported by a community of birth workers who understand what it means to leave a woman in her power to do the thing she was born to do.

The Day You Were Born

Pregnancy with you was intentional. Everything down to the timing of conception through to the exact spot you were birthed. It was quite lovely on the day you were born and that, I’m now convinced, was also by design. The weather wasn’t warm, but the sun was. It shone brightly for your arrival and you knew it. It’s one of the reasons you came when you did.

The night before you were born, my ankles and feet were so swollen I couldn’t identify my bones - which I’d come to discover was a sign that my body was preparing for labour. Your sister certainly knew you were coming - she awoke, crying, after being put to bed just an hour before and wailed the words, “Mommy & baby” over and over. She insisted on falling back asleep in my arms in our recliner, after which I collapsed while putting her back to bed. That’s when I knew you had to arrive. While getting ready for bed that night, I finally told you I was ready. I said, “I need this to be over. I’m ready. Come whenever.” You heard me, and you did. You were also ready - I sensed that already, but hadn’t given in to opening the door for you - and that was me admitting my readiness. 

I spent some time with your father late that night, letting him know just the same, and telling him you were waiting for the next sunny day to arrive, which was set to be a few days away. As such, we didn’t expect the next day to be as sunny as it was, but there you were, heeding my call. A simple mid-week day with nothing else to do - literally, I had just ran out of chores the day before, cleaning up dog poop on the front lawn in an effort to wind down out of my nesting body - it was the perfect day for you to arrive.

Entering the Birth Portal

From the moment it began, I wasn’t afraid. It was the perfect day - sunny, calm, and unordinary. There was so much space for you to come when you did. It was an unassuming day with nothing standing in the way and you knew that. Being the last day of the month, I said to your father, “Do you think we’re having a January or February baby?”. He said, “January for sure”. I agreed and said, “We’re having an evening baby. I feel it.” That morning after going for a walk with the family and saluting the sun with pleasurable sensations puncturing our time outside, I finished the necessary parts of my birth manifesto that I felt called to write before moving through labour in entirety, including the length of the process (8-16 hours, yours was 13). I felt ready and steadied.

Your sister and the dogs were all picked up by lunchtime and our birth attendants were on their way, set to arrive within the hour. My body was ready to kick it up a notch, but knew I wanted the extra hands present, so it waited until closer to their arrival to settle into the process. Once the first one arrived, I felt an immediate calm set over me and some time between her arrival and the next’s, I felt called to light your candle and intentionally bring you forth. 

It was game on. My body began to open up in familiar ways, much like I’d sensed during your sister’s labour before going on drugs. That was the only time I was scared, letting a quick tinge of fear wash over me that this labour would be as hard, or harder, than hers, and that I wouldn’t be able to handle it. In this same moment of weakness, I heard myself accepting the fact that if I had to transfer to the hospital and receive an epidural or undergo another Cesarean birth, I could do it. I immediately realized that was my pain brain talking and I put a stop to it. This was our birth, the one we designed together and nothing would change its outcome. You were coming out from where you were conceived, no questions asked. I made my commitment to you and we moved along.

Becoming Animal

Once I knew I had my supports in place and that we were off to the races, I let my true self out. I practiced letting myself go for months in this very space breathing heavily, flapping my gums, loosening my jaw, moving my hips, crawling around, all in preparation for your birth. It was time to see how far my musings were going to take me, how deeply I was going to enter into the birthing abyss.

During the months of your gestation, I had spoken to you many times. I had already called for you and set your path toward us from the spirit world and I didn’t need to search for you while in labour, like many women do. I never fully disappeared. We were already connected, committed to each other, and both ever ready to meet.

Throughout the rest of labour, I comfortably straddled the line between awake / aware / alert and entrenched / possessed / removed. I held tightly a birthing comb given to us by our first doula chosen for your birth, from whom we relinquished services once we alerted our midwives we wouldn’t require theirs anymore. By the time you were born, it was completely used up. I held it firmly with every oncoming sensation of labour, gripped so tightly and sometimes jabbed repeatedly onto my forehead as a way to navigate the pain away from my hips and into my extremities. 

For this portion of our journey, I was served with a very similar experience to your sister’s labour - gripping hip pain, back labour, and sometimes doubling and tripling contractions. When it was all over, I found myself quickly wondering why I had to experience it that way again, and was immediately answered with “I needed to know I could do it”. It’s true, I did. However, this time was different in so many ways. 

For one, I was able to lean into the sensations, welcome them when they came, embrace their messages, and allow your descent to flow more freely. Don’t get me wrong, it was a battle every time my body asked me to lean in - comb latched, eyes tightly shut, head shaking left and right, jaw slacked and lips flapping, shoulders tensing, hands supporting with counter-pressure, your father’s hand squeezed, toes curled, uterus releasing and relaxing, everything softening in gratitude. Each sensation flowed just like that - a wave of acceptance followed by a battle between my bodily defences and my overriding of each one to a place of surrender and acceptance, growth and a closer vision of you.

I started this phase fully clothed, wearing green sweatpants and a black long sleeved maternity top - my favourite one - clothes, which I would lose track of for three weeks postpartum. We turned on the fireplace and I asked for a fuzzy blanket laying nearby to be wrapped around my shoulders and upper back. I was cold. I had entered a familiar, yet alien place and I was a little unnerved. After a solid hour, once my body and soul had fully settled in, I had to start unrobing. With each sensation, a layer would come off. The fireplace was turned on and off numerous times to get the right balance. Finally, I was down to a robe and ready to change positions.

I knew I had to keep moving throughout labour if I wanted it to be relatively swift and by your design. Though, as things progressed, there was a fine line between keeping things flowing and making sure we didn’t exhaust mama too quickly. I shifted between standing over the side of a chair, kneeling at the side of the same chair, standing at our dining table in the basement (i.e. your dad’s stretching table), and kneeling over the birth ball for the better portion of 3 hours before asking to set up the birth pool to help soothe my hips. What I didn’t remember was how long it takes to actually fill a birthing pool, so I held off on having our attendants set it up, asking over and over when it would be ready. That’s your mom for you, always holding off on asking for help until the last minute.

I remember it starting to get dark when we moved to the pool and on our way, my water broke. It was completely clear and I exclaimed, “Oh! My water broke. Yay!”, before pooping all over the floor - a welcome shift for my body. This was a great relief, because even though I didn’t fear there being meconium in your water, it did happen during your sister’s labour and was the trigger for me to excuse myself from my original plan of a home birth to escape to the hospital where the drugs were at. Not this time. This was a sign for me that things were progressing perfectly, as planned.

The pool water was soothing, but much like your sister’s birth I felt the pool to be rather limiting and uncomfortable. I knew you wouldn’t be birthed there, so for the time being I told myself to lean into the services of the pool and get to a more comfortable place in my body. What I didn’t expect was to start sensing your descent at this time, which happened about halfway through, right after my mom made a not-so-surprise visit (she has a habit of doing that - love you, Mom). 

Side note - my Mom’s visit was the only time I went through a sensation with mental clarity. After she popped her head downstairs to kiss the back of my neck and tell me my daughter was safely resting at her place, I heard her go upstairs and wait through my next sensation before closing the door behind her on her way out. During this time, I was fully aware and it was as if I was listening to and watching myself move through the same contraction from my mother’s perspective. A strange place to be, but cool nonetheless. I did it because I had to know that she had gone before moving back into things fully.

While in the birth pool, I remember thinking, “wow, I’m drinking a lot of fluids”. I’d guzzled at least four 16-ounce glasses of coconut water and two of filtered water by this time over the span of 4 hours. Not surprising, though, considering how much deep mouth breathing I’d been doing. With each sensation, I would dive into animal mode, making sounds to alleviate the pain and to allow myself to understand where I was holding tension - the deeper the sound the more I was in my body and out of my head. Your sensations were coupled, but shifted as we progressed, sometimes closer together and others further apart. It was absolutely nothing like they say in books, and at some point along in our journey I took a mental note from one of my birth mentors about how labour resets with every sensation. The earlier part of this phase was greeted with more back-to-back style contractions, but as we entered the pool things shifted a bit. That’s how I knew you were coming. And as we shifted, I was playing catchup, drinking more now than I had before after realizing the effects of my vocalizations.

The warm water helped soothe my sore body and I remember thinking at this time, ‘I might pass out’. The pain had been a lot. I even asked our birth attendants, “So, I guess once baby is descending there will just be constant pressure, right?”. They responded with, “Oh yeah”, to which I grunted, “Oh, great…haha”. Little did I know things would change and I would experience a shift away from the long climax of pain to a place of comfort while birthing you.

Your Arrival

There are some things you never forget about your child birth experiences. From your sister’s, my mind has a stronghold on the decisions I made that led to her method of birth, even though I’ve come to terms with their importance in my transcendence. But with yours, it’s in the details and the shock and awe of simply “doing it”. The first thing I said when you arrived and I caught my breath was, “Holy crap, what the F just happened?!”. Immediately coming to, there you were in my arms - a head full of dark hair, eyes squinting, and both crying and gurgling at once. You were so slippery I had to wrap you in a towel to hold you. Your birth and the space in which you were brought forth was just another of the many premeditated fragments of our experience.

I remember very vividly the decision to move back to the birthing space from the birth pool. There was a knowing that you were near that hit, mixed with my discomfort of being unable to move much or find comfort resting on my knees in the birth pool that led me to take the final step in calling you in. I felt you begin to descend in the pool and when we transitioned by foot to our final birthing place, I walked with my legs apart sensing the great opening between them that naturally emerged in preparation to welcome you.

When I was guided back to the family room, it was laid perfectly. The room was warm, the fireplace lit, and there was a space right in the middle for me to make myself comfortable. Our birth attendants were so thoughtful, having set a comforter down with towels on top - a soft landing for my knees. The room was lit only by your candle and a soft salt lamp, and your father had carefully set up cameras to capture your emergence, just as I asked. 

I chose to get into position using our exercise ball, resting on hands and knees with your father on the other side of the ball opposite me and our birth attendants on either side of my back in waiting. It was now or never. I knew we were about to elevate the importance of the space we were in and it was going to happen relatively quickly. The whole time we were there, my goal was to move my body into all the uncomfortable places I knew would allow you to continue your descent on your way to meeting us. Admittedly, I was also ready for labour to be over, so I leaned in a bit harder than I expected to, but in a completely comfortable and safe way. I knelt on one knee for a few sensations, then switched to the other. Those shifts alone were more painful than the sensations at that point, but worth the effort because I very quickly started to sense you moving by where I was feeling you. You began exploring the world outside the cradle of my hips and each new sensation brought a different need for support and a sense of how much longer it would be until we met you.

I thought to myself, “Here you come. This is happening. I’m going to meet my baby very soon. I’m going to birth you.” I remember most specifically the final sensations that brought you earthbound. They were both pleasurable and new, not having completed the vaginal birth cycle with your sister’s birth two years prior. I knew exactly where your head was at all times and I kept asking the girls if they could see you starting to crown. Over the span of only a handful of sensations, I continued to use the advice our attendant gave while in the pool to lean into the urge that came at the end of each one to breathe down instead of back up, and there you were, crowning. I knew because I felt so dry and stretched from clitoris to perineum, the “ring of fire” as they call it, which was a little uncomfortable but certainly bearable and not anything to fear. There was no longer an option for us to turn back or retreat.

One more sensation and your head was free. I was encouraged to reach down to feel your head and I will never forget that moment. I felt all your wet hair as your head and face sat just outside my body facing backward, waiting for the rest of your body to join you. We wouldn’t wait long, because with the next sensation you were free, caught in action by our birth attendant. 

This release made all the arduous work of physically bringing you earth-side worth it. Not only could I feel you twist your body to leave me - the coolest feeling as your shoulders spun and you slid away - but we were about to meet you. My first thought was, “We did it!”, and once you were in my arms all the walls that had built up around us during labour crumbled and we fell back to earth from the heavens. It was a crystallizing moment in which I knew we had landed safely in each other’s arms. Birth is amazing. You and I are amazing. Our team is amazing. And all the work I (we) did leading up to your labour and delivery was worth it.

The Afterbirth

For exactly 39 weeks you shared a home within my womb with a growing organ. Your placenta supported you completely. It was the bridge between you and I and it acted as your surrogate mother and creator while you grew from seed. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention this portion of your labour, because for many reasons it holds great significance.

Almost immediately after you were placed in my arms I felt her detach within me, oxytocin rushing through my veins from the pure joy passed between you and I. Certain she would pass soon, too, I didn’t give her much thought until I sat down with you and felt her resting uncomfortably within me, a great blob of blood and organ tissue giving her last notes of oxygen to you via her pulsing tether. Our birth attendants suggested I try to pee, considering the great amount of liquids I consumed during labour, and though I knew right away it wouldn’t be possible, I moseyed on over to the bathroom with you in my arms a short while later.

It took a couple of trips to the bathroom and lots of patience to sit terribly uncomfortably on the toilet waiting for the urge to pee. Just prior to my third trip to the bathroom and after downing yet more liquids (including some delicious broth), I cut your umbilical cord and set you free into your father’s arms. I felt I needed to do this part alone. 

I couldn’t sit on the toilet, but instead hovered over some towels on the floor of our small basement bathroom. After trying to pee again and sensing that I wouldn’t be able to until I passed your placenta, I asked for herbs the attendants brought that would help speed the process along, as it had been an hour and a half since your release and I was growing more uncomfortable by the minute. After three rounds of the tincture, no pee and no placenta after tugging gently on its cord, I decided to do the only thing that made sense - talk to her. I thanked her for all she did for you and I. I told her our time had come to an end and I invited her to release completely. In that very moment, I gave one last tug and she slid out with ease. It was that simple.

I decided to have our attendants look her over so you and I could reconnect. I asked that they document her, like I did your sister’s on the eve of Mother’s day after she’d already been with us for almost a year and a half. Upon inspection, they noted that your “placenta is very interesting. It’s shaped like a heart.” We already knew your name would be Violet, but we didn’t know whether your middle name would be Love or Rose. It quickly became obvious to me that Love was the only way to go for three reasons: one, your placenta was shaped like a heart; two, you were born two weeks shy of Valentine’s Day (a commercial holiday, but a landmark of love nonetheless); and three, which I would be reminded of later, violets are shaped like hearts. “Love” was inevitable and I’m so excited to see how you will embody it as you grow and evolve through life.

Final Thoughts

Like motherhood, your birth was one big dichotomy. On the day of your birth, two realities existed simultaneously - one where everything we worked toward magically brought you forth in the most perfect way, completely unfathomable to most, and another where none of it was unexpected and everything felt completely natural. I knew in my heart of hearts that you would be birthed safely - vaginally and at home. I felt there would be zero “complications” and that you would arrive peacefully. I even knew intuitively what you would look like. Everything happened as I saw it, felt it, and claimed it in the months prior and none of it surprised me.

In addition, everything had been perfectly timed, including having all our chores done and having just made bone broth the day before. Looking back, nothing about it was a surprise. Everything had been perfectly premeditated by me, you, and the stars, and it gives me a reason to look back on something one of my birth supporters told me - “Look to your child’s labour as a way to understand how to parent them.” It’s been more than six weeks since your birth and this could not be more true already. You’ve seen your share of minor health challenges in this time and I’m not surprised by my initial reactions to them - fear of the unknown, not being able to trust that I can heal you or that you’ll inevitably heal yourself - but you’ve shown me that everything you told me during pregnancy is true:

You’re magical in a subtle yet powerful way.

You won’t ask much of me in order to be happy.

Our labour and your delivery will go off without a hitch.

You have the ability to heal in many ways - securing the family unit, giving light to the things that need immediate repair, self-healing, and more.

You will teach me more than I can ever teach you.

You and your sister need each other in this life and are the perfect balance.

And most importantly:

Having you (and your sister) makes it obvious that it’s my job to teach you both what it means to embody the feminine powers within all of us, including enhancing those within myself through this shared experience and throughout our lives, all the while healing our female lineage and strengthening it for ours and future generations within.

Your pregnancy and birth have been the most enlightening, empowering, and healing experience I’ve ever endured and its powers are not yet exhausted. I will constantly be learning from it my entire life. Thank you for coming to show me how to heal and immerse myself in this experience in a very obvious way that simplifies it all, making the process easier to digest, expanding my realm of possibility. Now it’s my job to teach you just how magical you are.