December 27th, I got a text. I jumped up, put on some makeup and got ready to head out the door. I had wondered how this was going to work, with two kids of my own, constantly hungry from being pregnant, and a sick husband, but the timing for me was impeccable. It was only 7:30 pm, but the kids and hubs were in bed, and I had just eaten dinner. Score!
It’s silly to think that there I was putting makeup on, contemplating how convenient the timing was, when I knew I was going to go document a day in history. It certainly wasn’t me doing the laboring, or making a grand entrance! I was pumped full of adrenaline at the thought of being able to be a small part of this. It was the night Miss Kora was entering the world, and I’m certain it’ll never be the same.
This birth was extra special, because Naomi later was the doula of my own labor, and a long time friend.
I stepped out of the door after checking my equipment twice, okay, maybe five times, remembering the feeling of leaving for the birth center in my own labors and searching for my “baby bag” of essential things required to have a baby.
Right there, bright as the Cheshire Cat’s smile, was the moon rising, like a huge grin.
You were long awaited, Miss Kora, and I’d like to imagine that the moon was smiling in excitement and anticipation the night you were born, for everything you’ve brought to this world with you.
and Sacred Pregnancy.