You can call me Oma

My daughter gave birth to a daughter….

I was blessed, and honoured to be there and witness the miracle.

I say miracle because the birth of a tiny human is a miracle.
I feel that we often forget that.
We forget that our bodies are beautifully and perfectly made.

My daughter was fully present, in the moment…. focused.

The midwife stepped in when needed but mostly remained in the background…letting my daughter do what she needed to do, reading her cues…supporting….

Holding space.
For my daughter.
For us….

My granddaughter came into this world in a quiet room, lights dimmed, oils in the diffuser, her Father fully engaged supporting her Mom…physically and emotionally.

No medications, no distractions, no interventions…
The way they wanted it.
Quietly with so much love…so much love….

It was an experience I will never forget..ever.

My daughter showed me…. no reminded me.

Standing in her power….literally.

Some would say she was lucky.

I say luck, had  little to do with it.

She (they) researched, made a plan and then made decisions that supported their plan; surrounding themselves with the support and love they needed.

It was intentional…deliberate.

Was it hard? Painful? Messy?

Sure it was, but that’s life.
The beginning, the middle and the end…life.

We have control.
We have the choice.
We can do it.

How do I know this?

My daughter showed me.

She embodied all the woman before her, all the woman to come ahead of her….drawing from their strength and wisdom.

They had done it and would continue to do it, so she could do it.

They were there, right with her…as I was.

She trusted her body.

It was beautiful.

I have never been in more awe…
Of my daughter.
Of the human body.

Our bodies know.
We know.

We need to remember.
We need to remember now.

Our bodies are beautifully and perfectly made.


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