I read the morning of Jaspers birth in a packet given to me by my midwife detailing some inspiration and instruction for birth and motherhood, that in order for baby to be born the pregnant woman must die.  This was dramatic to read.  But is somehow precisely how you feel in the wild throes of labor, like death is literally knocking at your door.  And now with some time in between the misty experience of birth and today I can see this means so much more to me than just the physical feelings of contractions.

Pregnancy is a journey, for some it’s a battle, for some an epic, beautiful vacation.  For me, it is a combination of the two.  And with each pregnancy, and each birth, I am transformed.  In the after math, days look so different, thoughts are altered, my life is completely new.  Each and every time.  My old life is something to mourn and something to close my eyes and smile a teary eyed smile at.  Having this advice delved out to me right before labor began, and then having it float into my mind now and then the last month, is something I can say only scrapes the tip of the pre-global warming iceberg of advice and comfort my midwife gave me through out this year.  Having these ladies by my side was a game changer.

At our one month appointment for our little Jasper Ray last week, with all kinds of kids running wild in her field, slopping up watermelon she just scooped out, while the mama’s were smiling, herding, commiserating, meeting, and embracing, my midwife said something I will never forget:

this is what I always dreamed of

me too i thought.

me too.