Birthing Bodies

Nearly two years ago I gave birth to my second daughter on my bedroom floor. There was a blizzard outside and my midwives arrived just in time to catch her as she became earth-side. Candles lit on the altar. Snow falling quietly outside. 

.

After birthing her, I birthed my placenta. As I nursed my child for the first time, candles flickering, the midwife laid my placenta next to me so that I could see it. I studied it with tired eyes. It was glorious and I was filled with gratitude for the nourishment, cleansing, and life force that it supplied my child for 41 weeks. I was in awe of my body.

.

My midwife took the velvety red organ down to the freezer in my kitchen. And for nearly two years each time I opened the freezer I saw it there. In a clear bag covered over with ice. And my heart flooded with a constellation of emotions. That’s where it’s been until yesterday.

.

Yesterday I sent it back into the earth. And the same wave of gratitude that I felt on that snowy night washed over me. “Thank you” I whispered. To my body. To my daughters. To my Egun. To my lineage of birthing bodies. To the experience of birth and mothering for revealing me to myself.