Photo Credit: Eleanor Oakes

I am built from an egg that formed in the womb of my grandmother,
which contained instructions for my forming, birthing, growing, and even my ability to support life.
Different parts of me have been slowly unfolding all my life without my knowledge or permission;
and even though I don’t know about them, I believe they are there;
and even though I can’t understand them, I believe they are there for a reason.
Like the first and last keys on a piano, sitting untouched for most compositions,
they stand ready for rare songs on certain days when the moment strikes.

Yesterday, the instrument of my body played notes it’s never played before.
I felt sensations I’ve never felt as my body guided my daughter from my womb.
I let out low guttural bellows that resonated in my very bowels.
My skin stretched like a drum, plucked to the point of rupture as her head passed through;
there was function even in its failure,
and maybe even a note no human ear could perceive.

My highest keys strummed when my arms held a child still attached to me from the inside,
and felt the ecstasy of witnessing and participating in a miracle.
Amidst the tears and laughter, my body silently released her placenta and tapped liquid gold.
My body knew to do all this and more, even though that knowledge lives in a place so deep I could never truly see or explain it.

Today I am so proud.
But most of what I can take credit for is not what my body did, but that I let it.
I trusted that this body, that once knew its own way out of my mother, could reciprocate.
I looked beyond the fears of the well-meaning doubters,
I stayed home in bed with my husband, sisters, mother, and midwife around me,
and with their help, let my body lead.
My body and hers, that is.
We worked together as we have as long as she has been a seed in her grandmother’s belly.
And here we are now,
together at last,
ready to play all the other notes that life has in store for us.