Center of a Mountain

When I was in labor, I walked through the center of a mountain.

Not up and over.

Not around.

But through the center.

Through the rock, through the earth.

My labors were long. With both of them – especially with my first – I almost had to beg my body to continue to contract. It never felt like my body wanted to birth; my entire labor was a game of encouragement and chasing my contraction pattern.

When I finally entered the liminal space which is transition, I could barely stand. But even at this point, my contractions would space and disappear if I sat down. The only option was to walk, but I could not do it alone.

During that last phase of labor, my sister held me up on one side, my husband held me up on the other, and my doula put her hands on my shoulders. As a team we counted through the contractions.

The contraction would hit, and we would say, “One.” I would take one step.

“Two.” I’d take a second step.

“Three.” A third.

I would lean over my husband while my doula put pressure on my lower back. With my eyes closed, the image of walking through a mountain came to me vividly.

Each step felt like the hardest task of my life. 

I could not do it alone.

I physically needed three people to hold me up and guide me at this moment.

My body felt both stronger than ever and weaker than ever. I could do the task, but only with help, and only with the softness of exhaustion.

My body felt ancient. My grandmother, mother, and other ancestors were with me at that moment. I felt of the earth, no longer separate.

Birth is the work of history. We are changing the course of not only our family lineage but also the world. This history – this carrying forward of a bloodline from hundreds of years ago into an incomprehensible future – this is the weight of this moment.

Birth is both pedestrian and pure magic. Birth is a moment which forces connection with our bodies, with our support system, with the very earth itself. The history in our bones, but at the same moment it is everyday. It is an incomprehensible task that women do every day around the world, usually without much complication. When it becomes personal, when your moment to birth the magic arises, the most important work of your life demands all of you.