My Children are midwives

Lately my creative outlets have been being expressed through baking and spontaneous poetry. The spark for this poem was a sudden realization that, my children are midwives.

I was flooded with memories and moments that they showed up for me in ways that brought integrative support. A midwife for me in my deaths, my rebirths, my falling apart, my coming together, their own births and all the moments in between and all the moments to come.

I was brought back to a few months earlier when I was dealing with a complete somatic experience of being sick from mold, EBV, ancestral heaviness and more. I was outside on my porch feeling no hope for my future. I had faced so many deaths during those 20 months, I thought for sure my time was coming to an end. As I sat on the porch praying for one more day, praying for my deceased mothers support, praying for my ancestors, I felt a tiny little hand start to rub my back. Suddenly I felt supported and I leaned into my one year old and to let her hold me.

I remembered my first panic attack. I was home alone with my two children enjoying a nice sunny California day when all of a sudden, I was hit SO hard by death. One of my first somatic teachings with death that I can remember. My kids were 4 and 2 at the time, playing upstairs. I was downstairs, panicking and unable to speak or walk. I hear my 4 year old speak his gibberish “mom. go. help” and then heard their little feet running downstairs. It didn’t surprise me that he knew I needed support, he was always communicating with me telepathically. What did surprise me was how he knew what I needed to feel safe. Right away without any thought my son grabbed a weighted blanket, went to get our Saint Bernard, got me some water, tried singing to me and sat with me until I was out of this portal.

Finally I was reminded how a midwife above all else is a witness. How she stands back and trusts your natural somatic response and just watches it all unfold, while reminding you that it will all be okay. This role is sacred and requires one to stay in neutrality. And this is what my middle daughter did for me in those 20 months of hell. At times she definitely reflected back the anger I had trapped inside my organs but ultimately she witnessed me. She softened me and she reminded me that even if I was going to die, it was all going to be okay.

The sudden rush of these realizations brought forth a pouring of words..enjoy..

My children are Midwives

Rubbing my back as I cradle myself on the wet earth,

Feeling broken from the weight of my ancestors past,

My baby is a midwife.

Offering me water and wrapping me in a weighted blanket,

As panic from many deaths are channeled through my body,

Lifetimes of tears falling from my eyes,

My son is a midwife.

Standing aback and witnessing the rebirth that comes in a Saturn return,

Holding space and reminding me it will all be okay,

My daughter is a midwife.

Whispering in the ethers

words of encouragement,

Bringing me strength as I give birth to them in the comfort of home,

What three magical humans.

My children are midwives.