« A Dedication to My Daughter, A New Mother »

In the heart of every loving parent, there lives a secret wish. It is a deep wish that when the time comes for our children to meet their own rites of passage they will be able to do so successfully. For a parent this is bearing witness to a shedding of a skin that initiates their child into adulthood. For the adult child it is a firm step over a threshold to claim one's personal and natural power.

I had the privilege two weeks ago on Super Bowl Sunday, Feburary 1, 2015 to experience my daughter Irisa enter motherhood. She brought into this world with her partner Ryan, a healthy little baby girl who will be known as Sophia (the wise one). Witnessing her committed focus, grounded strength, impressive calmness and a confidence that defies her age but not her soul, I experienced Iris fully embody the characteristic qualities of true feminine wisdom and power in action. 

It is during moments when the thin veil of life and death are so closely encountered that our primal instincts are intensely heightened and reality comes into sharp focus. Nothing else is present except the NOW. Although birth is the most physical natural act a woman can ever experience, it is simultaneously, mind altering too. It demands her undivided attention so that every aspect of her feminine power is distilled. 

Her reproductive gate keeper ( the cervix) is required to thin itself away and respond expansively in proportion to the life that passes through. While a woman's body endures the challenge to stretch beyond what her imagination allows, emotionally, she becomes transparent with no place to hide; psychologically, her stability is on the line and she needs to find her own touchstone; spiritually, she may have psychic awakenings that give her channeled inspiration. Her need to surrender into the muscular contractions that manipulate her baby through the final descent of her birth canal, connects her to her feminine body like no other sensual, sexual act ever could. A birthing woman's body quakes while her internal tectonic plates shift and involuntary, rhythmic pattern of oceanic waves build upon one another. Her body made of clay, air, fire, water and spirit changes rapidly to meet emerging new life. If she is lucky, she will find some inner connection with each contraction that allows her to surf through sensations and come to her inner shoreline. There she may enter into the most unusual, fleeting moment of a deep state of rest. While it only lasts a minute, she is aware that she this hallow state of peace exist for her. Every story of labor is unique to each woman. For some, it may be short, for others it last hours or days.  When the mysterious cosmology of time finally arrives and the newborn moves close enough to the sphere of entry governed by space, gravity and time, the mother's urge to push is undeniable and non negotiable.

While every woman enters the natural childbirth process with the greatest hope for a successful outcome, it is the hand of fate that often determines what unfolds. Regardless of how a mother brings her child into this world the act in and of itself bonds them for life.  Anyone who is privileged to be present before a laboring woman is truly touched by the strength, fortitude, courage and passion a women possesses. I have been asked to accompany the birth of three women in my life, including my daughter. Each birth was powerful and completely different. In two of the three, the end result was life. In one situation, a dear friend labored her child out of her womb knowing that he was already stillborn. The initiation into motherhood is always full of struggle, risk, joy and fate.

While we know as women that there are no guarantees, we continue to believe in the procreative power of life. Every birthing mother is a feminine warrior. She surrenders her body to this final act of creation and whether she goes natural or has a caesarian is irrelevant. Her body unites with this relentless, primordial force of nature coursing through her. She becomes a co-creative goddess birthing creation itself. Her blessed body is forever anointed as a vessel of creation offering life. 

Iris had confidence in herself, in her body and in those she surrounded herself with for support. Her partner Ryan, her midwife, her nurse, her doula and me, her mother. Today, I pay tribute to my daughter Irisa who is blessed with a new family. I also pay tribute to all Mothers as they are warriors. They put their own lives on the front line to bring life into the world.  Mothers are madonnas. From the fountains of their breast they share the nectar of sacred nourishment for the welfare of their child. Mothers are wisdom carriers. They learn to listen to their bodies, cultivate instincts and intuitions that allow them to trust and respond to the sacred messages that are vital to their own and their child's wellbeing. Mothers are virgins. They lay naked and vulnerable before Spirit and Mother Nature while they offer their bodies as sacrificial birthing vessels. Mothers are sisters. They share an initiation that changes their lives forever.  Mothers are lovers. They are invited to practice for the rest of their lives the spiritual path of unconditional love. Mothers are daughters. They belong to us all.

 Thank You Irisa!

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