"Miranda's water broke."
The message flashed across my screen from Amy, Miranda's midwife, as the clock in the corner of my Macbook clicked over to 11:00pm.
She wasn't due for 2 weeks.
Surprise, anxiety, and ecstasy floated through my brain channels.
"Sleep fast." she wrote shortly after-and I closed my laptop.
Switching my phone to "Loud" I pulled Ruby against my breast for a last feeding and started a night of alternating between snoozing and waking to obsessively check my phone for an update-in fear I may have missed something.
The next morning at 8:00am, I awoke to check in with Amy.
We agreed to meet at their home at 9:00am.
I arrived at 9:10am
The first real snowfall laid atop the ground outside... as magical as it was to see--these two had something even more so together as she labored in front of the fireplace. The light from the Christmas tree twinkling behind them.
Two braided pig tails sat on her collar bones.
She wore her lover's blank tank top.
The way the fabric fell over her belly made me swoon.
Shortly after our arrival, and after a brief period of separating herself to connect with her body, intensity came quickly.
It was time to utilize the birthing pool that had been filling in the kitchen.
Continuous streams of boiling pots on the cooktop.
As she surged, Jesse, her partner, dipped white washrags into cups of gas station ice water, immediately placing them against the skin of her face. She was very warm, and very uncomfortable.
And ready to move on from the tub.
As she exited, another surge welcomed itself, her midwife held her up and danced side to side as it subsided.
She headed upstairs to sit on the toilet, just for a few, and on her way back to the birthing pool, she surged once again, and found refuge laid across their bed.
With her partner,
And her midwife.
A few moments later, she was back in the warm water refuge of the birthing pool. The second midwife of her birth team, Lora, had arrived - surrounded by candles, sweet Christmas music, and the light from the kitchen windows, she continued her wonderful, life-changing journey of motherhood.
Soon-the unpredictable journey of birth turned once again.
The birthing pool was no longer a space of comfort, and so up the stairs they headed, once again. To the master bedroom.
She was glorious. A site to behold. A goddess. A warrior. A pillar of boldness and of vulnerability all at once.
She was a story.
A metaphor of beauty and pain and strength.
Looking at her labor was to read a novel cover to cover-and to be honored to do so.
I was honored to do so.
As she laid across her lover's lap...
As she surrendered to her body and listened to it--
As she breathed in the air of the Winter winds outside.. letting them swirl in her lungs...
There he was.
Welcome to the world, G.
You are more loved than you could ever imagine.
And your mama?
You rocked it, M.
All my love.