Watching birth over and over again and it never loses its appeal.  Each woman walks to the edge of her true self---she faces all the things that we usually are able to hide on the inside---the insecurities, the uncertainties, the fears. 

Every woman has them, every person who is real is full of ups and downs.  In authentic, natural birthing women face themselves.  
Nothing can be scarier and nothing more freeing. 

Sunday morning I was blessed to be present as a beautiful woman took the journey to motherhood. She was both centered and simultaneously overflowing with fears.

I bore witness to her entering the depths of her being --- breathing there, knowing that despite her own reservations her baby was ready to enter this world.

​She knew her fear was the final gate her baby needed to pass before leaving a soul world and joining the world of bodies.

The mom's job was/is always to accompany, to be a vessel, a pipeline, a doula to our own children.

This mom with her yoga training was right there conscious of the new soul, conscious of her own blocks.  

And so she opened herself up ---in an uncontrollable storm of words and tears 'I am scared to be a mother! How will I know what to do? It is too much responsibility!  Help me!  I can't do it'  

Each word spoken loosened the locks, each tear shed cleansed the passageway.  She herself opened the gates and in her purest, most honest form welcomed her baby.

​When we got the hospital and my birthing mama was only 4 cm dilated she was disappointed.  I could see it in her face, her demeanour...she deflated a bit.  We talked her up, reminding her it was happening and it was just a bit more opening, one contraction at a time.  

She was amazing, returning to herself, moaning and riding each wave like a pro.  Through all the hospital beeping, and typing, and questioning she rested with her eyes closed, occasionally peeking out for reassurance from her husband or me.  With each contraction she was inside, primal, clearly somewhere else, opening in the deepest places.

Her sounds reminded me of feminine nature at its core, connected to something beyond.  They were compositions of a woman who is afraid and also knows she is capable and strong.

But for one midwife at the hospital it seems these were the sounds of suffering.  She came in once offering an epidural and then she came in again and again and again encouraging one.  Each time the birthing woman shook her head no the midwife walked out with a bewildered look on her face, muttering to herself.

A birthing mama feels everything, this was a first timer and she was young so she was slightly shaken but we reassured her that she was amazing, she was connected, she was DOING IT.  Mama re entered her world, connected to baby, bringing it down.

Midwife came again, and this time she said 'Really it is silly for you to suffer, you should just take the epidural and that's it'....and to this the primal birthing mama looked up, stared right into the midwifes eyes and shouted at the top of her lungs 'I AM NOT SUFFERING AND DO NOT TALK TO ME ABOUT EPIDURAL AGAIN'. It worked, the midwife listened.

About two hours later with many birthing songs sung, her beautiful baby entered the world to a mama who sat in the glory of her voice and her strength.