Our Joy Birth

We celebrated our water-borne baby's third birthday this week, and what a loving, joyful birth it was. For the rest of my days on this planet I will carry with me the blessed memory of that sacred birth, its magic simple and wild and natural. I am so grateful to have embedded in my mind a memory so pure and filled with light.

My water broke at two in the morning and Tavish was born two hours and eleven minutes later. It was a whirlwind birth that took every bit of concentration and surrender I could muster.

I loved the feeling of leaning against my husband in our living room in a birth pool with candlelit water holding us as waves of contractions started like a whisper across the room and culminated like a brass band, all cymbals and horns and bass drums trembling my every cell.

I loved pushing with all my glorious might, pushing the way the light of dawn pushes out darkness.

I loved releasing his perfect body from my body into the water's open arms, then bringing him gently into our arms so full of wanting and waiting.

I loved the sound of his first breath, the sweet exhale. I loved his wet and warm body against mine, and then the crying, the crying like a hundred thousand red poppies blooming.

I loved every moment of that birth, our joy birth.

And Tavish boy, I have loved every breath of your young life since.