When I lived in Charlottesville, I attended several Birth Circle meetings during which caring, smart, educated moms shared about giving birth. I had attended meetings while pregnant to learn what to expect, and I had learned that sometimes things go as planned, sometimes they don’t, but each story is special and deserves to be told.  Five months after the birth of my daughter, I came to tell Sasha’s story.

I took a deep breath, looked at the ten or so women gathered there championing natural birth, and exhaled. I had dreaded this moment because I would have to face the chasm between my expectations and the reality of my first birth experience. I had expected to have a natural birth and read lots of books about it, had a doula, visualized Sashenka, etc. Although the journey was not what I thought I wanted, the end result was beautiful just the same.

I explained how I had labored for two intense days and I plateaued at 8cm, two cm shy of being ready to push. I was just working along, surrendering to each contraction, and not getting any closer to the grand finale. I felt like Donkey from Shrek going up a big awkward rocky Grecian mountain in the gushing rain, getting over half way, and then just crawling around in a circle over and over again–can’t get higher!—with a love hug every few minutes from the jaws of the Dragon around my belly.
I knew I had this priceless treasure tied to me, but I couldn’t get it to the mountaintop. The storm raged on, and the wind was blowing the treasure farther and farther off my back. I thought I might lose it to the sea (when her heartbeat started dropping, and I decided to use all the interventions I had wanted to avoid, all of them magic potions that were painful but moved me no higher). Nothing was working, and I wept. Finally, I decided to heed the doctor’s recommendations and get a c-section. It was if the Dragon grabbed me and flew me up to the mountaintop, and I sighed (why couldn’t I get the treasure there myself?), but also felt a tremendous sense of peace (hey, we’re not going to die). Though I kept going in and out of consciousness, I remember my little donkey legs trembling, and I could not make them stop no matter how hard I tried. Finally, the King pulled out the treasure right in front of me, I was still filled with joy, and I remember it as a beautiful, bright moment. Luminous. And perfect. We made it to the mountaintop, and the sun shone in all its glory.

An appropriate end note–after the woman tells the birth story, she chooses a bead to put on the long necklace. The necklace represents all the birth stories told. I picked out this long elaborate pink bead. And the string wouldn’t go through. I poked at it for a while, and then chose another bead, a round little guy. Just rolling with it. It fit.