14 years ago I walked down to our sugarhouse in the early morning and leaned against the doors, a piece of me longing to remain there, static, still, until eternity. We never locked anything in those days. I was there to simply close the doors with an eyehook as we expected to be gone for a few days.
Unlike my first pregnancy, I knew at a certain point in my second pregnancy that this child would be born by caesarian. While I was leaning against the rough boards of those doors, my husband and 6-year-old daughter were breakfasting on oatmeal in the kitchen.
I was utterly unprepared to become a mother again. I hadn’t even begun to imagine names for this child — girl or boy, that morning we still didn’t know. But all pregnancies end, one way or another, as everything does in this world. On this 14thanniversary of my second birthing day, I’m always reminded of being on that extremely ancient and utterly contemporary world journey of motherhood, of bringing babes into this world, tending them, raising them, all the while gradually letting go. An infinity of mothers have passed through this earthly realm, and yet, what sacred largesse.
8 thoughts on “Birthing Day”
It is great to read your useful posts.You are welcome in London at anytime.
Well, thank you! I’ll remember that next snowy winter 🙂
I’ve never heard the mystery, beauty and melancholy of approaching birth said so well. Beautiful. And happy birthday to the lass and to her wonderful mother.
Thank you — and I hope our paths cross soon 🙂
Happy birthday, GiGi! Happy birthing day, Brett! Warmest wishes for a terrific day!
So nice to from someone who remembers her first nickname! Hope all is well with you!
So lyrically beautiful. Becoming a mother, no matter how many times, has elements and fear of the unknown intertwined with love and longing. Happy birthday to your daughter and happy birthing day to you.
That’s so true! Thanks for the good wishes!!