Once upon a time
you were no bigger than the nail
of your smallest one-year-old toe.
You grew and kicked and danced,
and bliss fluttered in my belly.
Then the oceans burst,
and the moon pulled at you with her steady hands.
Your daddy called you by name
and I pushed from deep within the earth.
Together we birthed you into a winter morning--
your arms open wide to receive this life,
your eyes indigo blue for a moment,
your soul as old as time.
The moon stayed with us until you found your breath.
And because the sun was yet asleep,
I gave you warmth.
Someday I will explain to you
the mysteries of women.
You will learn what it is to be a goddess.
You will learn what it is to love another soul
in the deepest part of your being
before she is yet conceived.
And how the silver cord between us
was not broken with your birth,
but made stronger.
Perhaps you will not remember
how I took in the scent of your hair
a thousand times
as you folded yourself into me,
how I held you so close
that the lines between us often blurred,
or how I emptied myself daily
and yet found more to give
so you could learn to love completely
all your life.
You may not remember this first year,
but it's as much a part of you
as I am.
your journey to my arms
Looking through the perfumed smoke
my feet supported by the ancient stones
I peered into the golden face
of a two-thousand-year-old Mother Goddess,
and asked her to send you.
Six months later,
on the other side of the world,
the fog-covered monterray waves
brought you with the morning tide
and you Became.
When you were half grown,
the size of my hand,
I almost lost you.
I spent the rest of your growing-time
on my side with my body curled around you,
praying with every breath,
loving you more with every passing day,
savoring every kick and push
because it meant you still had life.
When the sun of Aquarius came
whispered to you that it was time.
You turned your head south
and we waited.
Surrounded by women as in the days of old,
you slipped out of your private ocean easily
like a baby seal,
and with a few primal pushes
I lifted you out and into the world
with my own hands
You were so strong!
You held your head high and searched
with your deep black eyes
until you found my face
and knew me.
Your father severed the spent cord
that had rooted you to my body
and we held you and cried together,
tears of relief and love and joy
that you were here at last.
*BTW both of these where hospital births but I felt totally in control and they were very empowering and peaceful and beautiful.
7yo: "Mom,I know which man is on a quarter and which on is on a nickel. They both have ponytails, but one man has a collar and the other man is naked. The naked man was our first president."