Two babies in four years.
Twice within the last half decade, my body has accepted the undeniability of new life; of its calling, both rooted in evolution, and in the deepest feminine. Twice, I have heeded the early signs, the gradual slowing down and opening up.
The first time, I would lay in bed with my feet together, knees spread to either side, feeling the pull of my hips and pelvis, pressing gently with my fingertips on my inner thighs, willing them to open; know when to open; open for me, open for my baby. The second time, my pelvis and hips unfurled like spring leaves in the very early days. I grew wider, and swayed and swayed and swayed as I walked. My body carried the wisdom of my first birth deep within it, and my opening took little encouragement from widened knees and fingertips.
Giving birth twice in four years, I am supercharged. I am overfull with all that will gradually unfold in the coming decades. I am enacting the divine feminine that will inform all the years of my transition from maiden to mother, mother to crone. All in this four years, my body will reveal a wisdom that it will take me decades to finally understand. It will connect me with my ancestors, my community, my family, in ways that are beyond comprehension or conscious intention. In the time that it takes me to grow, carry and birth these babies, I will undergo the most dramatic transformation known to the human form, to the human psyche, and I will carry the wisdom and strength of that process with me; it will guide me, for the remainder of my days. For nothing is as powerful as the opportunity to expand beyond your wildest expectations, to be rended apart and built into something more than the sum of your parts. To know, deeply and to your core, that having the strength to birth and mother is to have the strength to do anything. Anything.