Seven lives

Seven lives

Seven times this year I was blessed.

Seven times I saw a mother made, a father created and a family born.

Seven times I was reminded magic still exists.

In May I returned to my work and dove in, and seven times since I was witness to brilliance and beauty, amidst the chaos, political turmoil, war and despair that made its mark on 2016.

Lets face it, this year has been so much suck in so many ways.

But despite the sadness, seven times I was privy to hope. Seven times I cried a silent tear of joy, alongside real men, crying tears of appreciation for the goddess that was their birthing partner.

Seven times, in seven very different ways, women reminded me that a female body is the culmination of all things capable and is in every way enough. Seven babies were born vaginally in seven different scenarios in which their mothers persevered through the planned and unplanned parts of their course. Some bodies were large, some petite, and some in between- all were perfect.

For some I was the only support person present, and for others I was one among many.

Each and every time I was excited, jittery and nervous. Because each time I knew I would be witnessing something that really mattered- for the family, but also for me.

Each mother, whether for her anticipated firstborn son, or her fourth surprise daughter, went in and believed she could. She accepted the possibility that things would not always go her way, and surrendered anyway. And that in and of itself is courage incarnate.

2016 taught me that despite language differences, a guiding hand, and the power of touch and connection, is a universal language. Sure, I learned valuable skills too, but the simplest act of ensuring I do more listening than speaking is serving me most successfully- they have so much more to teach me than I do them.

Every family leaves me fuller. Every mother makes me better. Every baby teaches me something I’ll never forget.

Four baby boys and three girls left their mark on me this year.

These families become more than my clients, they become markers in my life, guiding me deeper and further down the path I’m meant to travel. Each month and each family I meet become major moments in my life.

I’ll know their names forever.

Babies T, O, R, R, S, J and A, your parents kicked ass this year. They greeted you with an open heart, an empowered will and a strong mind. You were born into love- a feeling that brings me comfort months later.

Seven times I was reminded this world is good. That hard work pays off, and that the good guys can win- and that means so much this year.

Seven times I grew smarter- wiser, even. The knowledge gained from each and every birthing woman serves me better for each subsequent woman down the line, and for that I am so grateful.

My bag is packed and I’m ready to go for number 8. He’s due to make his mark on my memory. The fates only know whether he’ll squeeze into my 2016 or not, but I will be ready to learn no matter when he decides it’s time.

So thank you, 2016. You’ve sucked in so many ways, but in birth, you could never bring me down- because those seven lives brought me up.

4 Responses to Seven lives

  1. Oh Whitney….if I could write like you…I love reading your work. Listen, I have an essay to write that is in it’s 5th attempt, only 2 pages, I’m sure you could whip it up in 20 minutes. Care to write it for me? Lol, I’m joking but I’m sure you are well aware of the talent you posess. Happy 2017, maybe we’ll cross paths in the hallway….

  2. Certainly the feeling is mutual – those lucky families having you present as they prepare for and greet a newborn child. Trusting 2017 is full of many amazing promises yet to unfold for a brilliant and sparkly year.

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