Solstice and lunar eclipse, she came with so much energy she was unstoppable.
Walking alone, just me and her, for most of the day, through the side streets. Stopping for breath and hugging a tree. Panting under the twinkle lights of the tree, on all fours. Shedding my clothes. Calling him to finally come home. The snow started. And I heard the doula say to him, call the midwife, we’ll have a baby soon, as she moved me to the pallet on the floor.
Dark and light were one and the same. I laid on my side remembering to pant trying so hard to hold her in until the midwife came. When I was scared and lost she said, your body knows what to do. Trust yourself. I breathed some more. And for a few moments everything stopped. Laying on my side, I looked up to the top of the window. Facing west. Out at the fading sunlight. Breathing and panting. Hearing her words. Knowing there was no turning back. Knowing I had everything within me to do this. Knowing I had to. Knowing I would move through this fire, that this fire was moving through me. Knowing, with absolute certainty, that there was no other way. And with one more growl, she was here. On my belly all slick and warm.
They said she cried something fierce but all I remember is the stillness, the end, the landing. All I remember is her warmth and her certainty and that I was just a conduit. A bundle of light. She was so ready to come.