Sometimes I leave a birth feeling like I also gave birth, or was given birth to. Today my hips ache, my pelvis is tired, my shoulders and neck burn and there is a well of water just behind my eyes threatening to breach the brim and spill out. I'm exhausted beyond the normal limits and am having trouble forming sentences and running into walls occasionally. I am also strangely grounded, centered and intimately in touch with my own quiet power which hovers just under all the fumbling and soreness. I am complete. The seas have calmed and the moon has me gently tethered by my own umbilical cord and the water is warm. I can float now. I can sleep now, if only I could tear my eyes away from the vision of her woman's work. Her agony. Her blazing, radical strength.
Perhaps you felt it too, last night at precisely 7:01pm, the universe shattered, a tornado formed somewhere and at least 2 black holes were turned inside out as primal woman summoned Mother Banshee to push a star out and into its proper place in the sky. She was afraid she was tearing in two. And she was. She was splitting in 2 and out came her 2nd half - white as a sheet with his short cord wrapped around his neck. His trip exhausted him and he simply could not agree to be present with us yet. He needed some coaxing to really believe that his float in the ethers had come to an end.
It's time to open your eyes little one. Time to be here now in the loving arms of your family. They've been waiting for you so open your eyes and take a deep breath. It will be ok I promise. And he does. And it is.
I go home. I take as hot a bath as I can stand. I get in my bed. 45 minutes later my smallest child crawls into bed with me - the perfect creature that emerged when I split in two, 2 years ago. She has sensed that I need to touch new life for the next 7 hours as I sleep. She pats me as if to say, "It's ok mama, I'm right here. You can close your eyes now." And I do. Who will I be tomorrow I wonder? Because today someone new was born.