This is a story of fear.
In my heart, fear is sitting very close to love.
Fear does not waken me at night, but when I awaken, fear keeps me here. Alone, hungry.
The time has come to unwrap the fear. Name the fear. Hold the fear. Listen to the fear, to the beat and the center and the source of it.
It is a fear of the pop. My bag of waters breaking. Fear of the tightening. My uterus contracting. Fear of the pain. My body squeezing. Fear of the opening. The bones of my pelvis widening. Fear of the power. The life force siphoned into my core, the force of a life coming through me.
I am scared of what my body will do, how my mind will cope, how I will manage the loss of control while finding the ultimate control.
It is a fear of change. The changes in my relationship with my daughter, in the dynamic of my family, in the arrangement of my bed and my affections. My heart, already swollen with a mother's love, will expand to allow for another child. My heart may burst. I may explode.
I am scared because I have done this before and I am confident because I have done this before.
I need not control my body apart from allowing, I need not use my mind apart from quieting. Only spirit can help me now.
And as the fears fly away, I bear down and release my child onto the earth. I give her freedom, I give her roots.
“There is a secret in our culture, and it’s not that birth is painful. It’s that women are strong.” ~ Laura Stavoe Harm