There are two ways to give birth. To give birth to body and spirit together or to give birth to spirit alone.
When I discovered in early September that I was pregnant I had to make a choice between giving birth to spirit in body form, a living breathing magical human being, or giving birth to a glorious spirit in spirit form, letting my child fly back to source. I chose spirit in spirit form.
I made this choice by listening to my highest authority and asking “How do I best serve?”. This decision we as womyn make is one of the few black and white choices which actually exist for a human being, we choose to let the baby live in our womb or to surrender the spirit back to our heart. There is no grey, no middle ground, this can make the decision heart wrenching. Often there is no clean clear yes or no instead there are a million reasons all weighed against one another on an often impossible choice which can not be undone. We must somehow boil things down to a choice of staying pregnant or ending the pregnancy, there is no middle ground.
I asked my son to wait for another time, one when I was not in so much pain, where we could be supported in the way we deserved. I whispered to him as I held my hands cross my full womb,
“Come again little one if it is really important we meet in the flesh, I trust you to know when. For right now your mama needs to serve in the way she knows best, and this time I choose giving birth to your spirit alone. I love you little one, thank you for choosing me. You are holy.... holy... holy”
In the quite of the night as the moon was coming full, on the last day of summer with the aid of herbs and a powerful vow to the Divine I went through labour as I have before. The contractions felt different without a full grown baby inside my belly but similar enough to know this process and to trust my bodies wisdom. This birth was different, there was no breathing baby at the end this time. There was human flesh though, clots and membranes, evidence that my sons spirit had released, tangible proof of my pregnancy. I wrapped the flesh in a leather pouch and went to the river. I went in ceremony and gave the flesh back to the mother, where we all go eventually when our bodies no longer serve us. I said good-bye and told my son, Will, how much I loved him and whispered... holy... holy... holy ... because we are.
Too many womyn feel ashamed to tell their stories of choosing abortion. Even the word abortion sounds harsh and accusing. Too many womyn hide their truth because we still live in a culture where abortions are generally tolerate but only to be spoken of in wispers. There is still silence, and with this silence an implied shame. I chose an induced miscarriage. I feel it is not only my right but my duty as an empowered womyn who has known fertility and sexuality in so many of its forms to tell my truth. I choose to speak out and do my part to create a culture where womyn are no longer judged or merely tolerated but supported and cared for no matter what we choose to do with our wombs.
A simple “What are you thankful for?” seems appropriate. I am sure I have asked it before, and will again...
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