12/01/2023
Every time I doula a birth I am awe struck by the strength of a woman. Sipping the most soothing cup of tea, I go back to the night before.
The beginnings always start with curiosity, a wave of contractions that awaken the birthing experience within the body.
Looks of excitement between partners are exchanged, whilst the unknown lingers in the air.
Intensity begins to grow and the experience changes from wonder of the future to acute presence. I watch as she dives, immersed into what is happening, the rest of the world fading into the abyss.
Waves of contractions consuming her. Her body sways, her breath is the only physical tool to move that contraction through her body.
Her partners hand on her back acting as the purest anchor, holding her to this world. Words of affirmation and coaching leaving my lungs, that she follows precisely.
The hours pass and the intensity grows. I see it all over her body now, her face is the most honest description of her experience. She is in it. Deeply. Her baby traveling through her body. They’re a team.
Needing relief, we call on water. A warm shower that aids for a moment. I watch her face struggle to push through this new level and I know that she’s close. Her two pillars of support on either side, keeping her tethered.
And then…the primal urge to birth her life arrives. There is nothing else. Only this. Holding her hands it begins…the release.
My eyes welling up as I watch the crown make it’s appearance. The mother using every sensation, and every wave to guide baby’s descent. It’s the bravest, and sincerest act of will.
The portal opens and baby is born. Dad finally giving in and tears of love stream his cheeks. Mum in awe of what she just did. I dwell in the honor of witnessing the start of someone’s life.
Two become three and it is everything 🤎