In the peace of the waxing moon - soft, hazy and almost full - I remember this night. This long night three years ago. I was like that sky lady and as ready to fulfill her eternal promise.
Labor pulled me in, its strong tide unyielding - past time, past pain, past exhaustion, past hope, past fear, past desperation, past determination, To a place beyond... a place I had never been before.
Pure being. Pure body.
There was nothing else for it but to continue Pushing and pushing and pushing until I cursed, until I roared, until my legs trembled, until my veins burst, until my eyes filled with red.
Hour after hour after hour you inched into this world Slowly, with ineffable steadiness – like you already trusted me, like you already trusted yourself, like you already trusted life, Completely.
How did we do it? Your birth... it was impossible – improbable. I was a warrior. I was a fearsome goddess. I was that great sky lady. And through it I was made ready for you.
It seems only yesterday that I was pining for you, my dark haired daughter. Can it truly be one month already since the midwife's voice rang out in the darkness of a long labor, saying "Reach down and grab your baby!" And that's when we finally met. It was the most incredible moment of my life. You came into the world quietly, tiny and pink and utterly perfect - still curled in upon yourself like a tulip in early spring. - - - - - Is this how our life together will be? Day spinning into night and night into day as you slowly unfurl into a magnificent blossom? I hope so.