the most complete entanglement

It happened in the quiet spirit but tangible holding of space by women who revere labour and birth –
women who carry you in love and the spirit of new life. And my Michael all the same.

A sanctuary.

I envisioned a spiritual labour, journeying in prayer and surrender, but the quiet was continuously broken by a painful growling. And at times only surrender was left.

I would feel my body fight. I would feel Jade’s hands, warm, comforting, circular movements over my lower back, and Michael whispering to me with breathing patterns.

Ruth in the bedroom, listening, holding, writing.

The surges came thundering in and drifting out. I asked Michael to ask Ruth if I could take some arnica, he came back with a chuckling ‘yes’.

The rushes came. I laboured on all fours, it was the only way my body knew how.
Every now and then, I’d be seeking relief in between surges, just to roll back on to my knees.

They were tired.

I shivered, whispered ‘socks, cold’, then a wave and ‘take it off’.

I tried to rest on my side, but the surges came and immediately I would be back on all fours. In desperation, I asked them, what’s next? My body and my spirit needed there to be a next.

And finally they said I could get in the pool.  Bliss. Then agony.

The first thing I saw of Ruth was her socks, warm, fluffy socks. Quietly holding this ripe atmosphere in the waiting.
The most comforting socks anyone could ever experience.

We laboured intensely, beautifully.
We were focused and present in each surge, each wave.
When my body was tired, my spirit would take over, when my spirit was tired, my body intuitively groaned and shivered as it took back the reigns.
And again I would be grounded in my body…and then again my spirit.
Transfiguring.
It was the most focused I’ve ever been, yet the least I could control, the most present I’ve ever been, yet the least in my mind.

I could feel breath whispering life.
It wasn’t my own.
It was that of my husband holding my hand, pouring warm, relieving water over my back, chanting breathing cues.
Jade quietly affirming my strength,
Ruth’s toes wiggling on the floor, silently guarding the process.
Lana in the kitchen, strong and quiet from afar. The cats, Q in the room with us, Beans in the doorway, so unperturbed, calm, intent and at home.

And Him.

Drawing strength from their presence, my body giving more than I ever thought I had.
Nudge, another couple of expletives in between the yearnings of my spirit.
Out of my mind. Primal, instinctive, yet completely in control.
Ruth: “remember, breathe for your boy, he is working with you.”
Then fire.
Growling.
Yearning.
Renewal.
Descent.

It was the most powerful unfolding of this chrysalis.
Tenderly was birthed a perfectly appointed son, then his chosen mother, then his chosen father. Metamorphosis.

Then the words ‘take your baby, take your baby, take your baby.’

It was a whole birth.

A safe birth. A healed birth. An intimate birth.

Free from anxiety.Made in a secret place, woven in the depths of the earth,
finally ‘collected from the stars’ and birthed in a sacred place.
Our entire cosmos made new.We prayed for you. We prayed deep and we prayed raw.
A home birth carried by insurmountable love.

The most complete entanglement.