To My Zoe, On Your Third Birthday

23 Mar

Zoe, a month shy of three years old.

Dear Zoe, 

Today you turned three years old.  Three years!  In one way I feel like you’ve  been a part of my life forever; I can’t seem to wrap my head around how I managed life without knowing this kind of love.  On the other hand, these three years have come so quickly.  Too quickly.  Didn’t I just give birth to you?  That beautiful Spring day in Texas,  laboring in my home surrounded by my family.  What a special day that was.  I can still feel the weight of your tiny, little body, fresh from my womb, in my arms.  Meeting you overwhelmed me.  Thank you.  Thank you for picking us.  I wonder, did you look down from heaven and say, that’s her, that’s the mommy for me.  I know, for certain, that you are the right girl for me.  And I will always be thankful for the life that has come to me through yours.   Continue reading →

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In Reflection: a year since my last birth as a BA

5 Mar

A Birth Chamber, Alma Tadema

March 5th, one year ago, I was 34 weeks pregnant and serving a laboring mother in her birth. I was heavy with child, and while I knelt down under her ripe, fertile belly to listen to her child’s heart tones, I felt my own child quicken within me.

I stooped and I swayed with her, I bent low and I squatted right next to her, with both our round bellies hanging and dangling from our frames. I took my cool fingers and touched her furrowed brow. The son that I carried in my womb, the child that jutted his foot into my ribs as if to remind me not to stretch too far, while I reached out to steady her body in labor –  would soon arrive. 

And all the labor love that I poured into the hearts and lives of the women I served during my 40 weeks of pregnancy would be returned to me in my own approaching birth.

I’ve always wanted to tell mothers, steady yourself because the sacred is mixed with the devastating. And as you labor, still your heart; the intense work of birth is surrounded with holiness of life.

One year now since I’ve seen a mother toil through her labor, and I can still hear in my ears the heavy moan of a life that is creaking the door open for another. I can hear the sound of a body open in birth. 

Make way, make way, her body says as she flings herself into the holiness of life. Make way, make way, my heart says, as I thrust myself into the holiness of motherhood.

One year in which I have set down my love of labor to give exclusively to the fruit of my labor.  And in this year, my motherhood is reborn again and again; dear second child, you remind me that I know nothing – but to love you (and it is like nothing that I’ve known).

I remember a young mother, who was exhausted from her long labor, stretched out on the bed to rest in between her contractions. I watched as her own mother came to her, laid down beside her and wrapped her arms around her laboring daughter. The mother pressed her cheek into her daughter’s head and sang out in a lullaby, “You are so beautiful to me. Can’t you see…” The mother’s voice cracked as she fought back tears, but she continued to sing in hushed tones to her daughter. Her daughter closed her eyes, and settled her body in closer to her mother’s – soaking in the strength of her love.

I feel that mother now, singing to me, one year later. I can hear her, and it is beautiful.

In the fullness of time, one year later.

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A Poem About Childbirth That Wrecks Me

5 Mar

Click image for photo source

The Moment the Two Worlds Meet

By Sharon Olds

That’s the moment I always think of – when the 

slick, whole body comes out of me,

when they pull it out, not pull it but steady it

as it pushes forth, not catch it, but steady it

as it pushes forth, not catch it but keep their 

hands under it as it pulses out,

they are the first to touch it,

and it shines, it glistens with the thick liquid on it.

That’s the moment, while it’s sliding, the limbs

compressed close to the body, the arms

bent like a crab’s rosy legs, the

thighs closely packed plums in heavy syrup, the 

legs folded like the white wings of a chiken-

that is the center of life, that moment when the 

juiced bluish sphere of the baby is

sliding between the two worlds,

wet, like sex, it is sex,

it is my life opening back and back

as you’d strip the reed from the bud, not strip it but

watch it thrust so it peels itself and the

flower is there, severely folded, and

then it begins to open and dry

but by then the moment is over,

they wipe off the grease and wrap the child in a blanket and

hand it to you entirely in this world.

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The Strength of a Woman

2 Mar

Usually when you talk about muscle strength you need to consider force per mass. With this in mind, this makes the myometrial layer of the uterus the strongest muscle in the human body relative to its weight. This achievement is based on the ability of the uterus (aproximate weight is around 35 – 40 ounces after birth) to deliver an average 7lbs infant. This myometrial layer of the uterus can exert a downward force of 100 to 400 N (25 to 100 lbs) with each contraction. Source

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