Today is my son’s 9th birthday.  Last year, I decided to copy his birth story from my journal to my (old) blog.  You can read it here.

Each year on their birthdays, I reflect upon my children’s births and remember that joy I felt the first time I saw them (this is also a handy trick when I’m near the end of my rope and need to remember that I do, indeed, like them). 

I will never forget the feeling of his head as it was coming out of me.  It was strange knowing this guy was not fully earthside but yet, there he was.  A mass of slippery hair greeted my shaking hand.  When he was brought up to my chest, I was overcome with both relief and awe.  This beautiful little being was here!  And I did it!  Without drugs!  Without being cut or pushed around or mashed on!

I had felt the euphoria of unconditional babylove before, but the sense of empowerment was completely new.  This feeling is still there today, nine years later.  I am a birth warrior.

Looking back, I realize that Billy’s birth was the catalyst for my birth work.  His sister’s birth prompted me to learn more so I could do differently for myself next time and Billy’s birth prompted me to learn more so ALL women could do differently.  I don’t know what’s right or wrong for each woman, as we are all different, but I do know that it made a huge difference in my life and I hate to think anyone is missing out on that.

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