These last days of pregnancy are such a strange time. An in-between; neither here nor there, like some sort of weird holding space between sleep and wakefulness.
Knowing your world is about to irrevocably and profoundly change, and that this is the last time you’ll be this version of yourself before being shattered into a million pieces and having to rearrange yourself again, is unsettling.
And there is nothing you can do about it, except wait and surrender yourself to it.
Each time, giving birth has been the complete unravelling of my whole being. It’s never really been about worrying about whether my body can do it; it’s been about whether my mind can.
My thoughts have always been my biggest enemy, and birth has brought me to my knees every time. It’s where every single voice and every atom of my being has screamed ”you can’t do this!” and having to wade through that bleakness and then somehow finding an ocean of calm in the depths of my soul in order to come out the other side saying ”I did it! After all.”
I believe giving birth offers us the opportunity to show us the deepest parts of ourselves if we allow it - and the more open we make ourselves to it, the bigger the potential for growth.
Each of mine have opened my mind and heart up to dimensions I had no idea even existed, and each of my babies have taught me a lesson that has changed the course of my life forever.
Right now, I feel like I’m standing at the foot of yet another mountain, and I have to figure my own way up. And at the same time, my baby has already began their descent here, I can feel it.
Our inevitable meeting is approaching, but I still have to travel to the depths of my soul before it can happen.
I am the only person in this world and the ones beyond who can decipher the lesson this baby has to teach me. For nearly ten moons, they have been with me through every tear, laughter and every heartbeat.
I’m acutely aware of my insignificance and greatness. I am nothing and everything at the same time. A vessel for some sort of magic that is much, much larger than me, or any of one us. And I’m ready. I’m waiting.
