My baby was just about five weeks old when the lockdowns began and the beaches were “closed.” Forced isolation was the exact opposite of what she and I needed at that time. We were in the midst of my postpartum expansion, getting to know one another on the outside of my womb while friends and family cared for our basic needs. Suddenly the support was withdrawn, and I sat at home nursing my brand new babe while her two older sisters kept busy with art projects and make believe. Some days it rained, some days it didn't. Some days we went on walks, some days we didn't. We waited for those first two weeks to pass, and then the lockdown extensions began.

At certain points in time I couldn't believe that any of this was actually happening. Because of "public health" orders, I, along with countless other mothers, newborn infants and children, was abandoned and forgotten by humanity in an instant. One of my greatest fears was being alone with my three daughters after giving birth - unable to rest or heal as I needed to. I was afraid that I would grow fragile and no longer have the will to continue on in such lonely hardship. The world was crumbling at my feet, and I knew not how to overcome the rubble that seemingly blocked my path.

I drew on what I had learned during my years as a postpartum care provider, as well as the knowledge that was refined at my Innate Traditions training just a few months prior to giving birth. I continued to connect with my placenta medicine. I drank, bathed in and steamed with herbs. I held my baby close at all times and maintained constant contact with Mother Nature, the mother that would still hold me in her arms. I slept when I could and I ate well. My daughters and I nested underneath the lemon tree in our backyard most afternoons and watched the hawks gliding above us. We heard their screes and took them to heart. We let ourselves be wild and unscheduled. We held and kissed the baby and told her how much we loved her. She gave us smiles and hugged us back. She slept in our arms and kept her ears close to our hearts.

Those days in the yard, surrounded by thriving fruit trees and many pollinators, were profound. I watched my young daughters thrive in my care. They were endless springs of love and wonder, the three of them so enamored with one another. I quickly learned that, despite the lack of other adults in our presence, I actually was not alone at all. Though my former community had seemingly vanished, my immediate family - my life blood, my children, my muses, my guides - never once left my side. I felt deeply the love that my daughters had for me. I could feel their empathy in spite of their young ages, and we held space for one another as we grieved our many losses. What had once seemed an insurmountable challenge was now my greatest blessing. I was (and still am) with my daughters 24/7, and though their strong will often exhausts me by nightfall, my cup is never empty. They fill me with love, and I exude gratitude. My biggest offering to them is a safe and love-filled home, where grace and forgiveness abound, and where love sets us free.

There are days when my love for my children overwhelms me. On these days I sense what I only know to describe as a panic attack beginning, but rather than being filled with fear, I am filled with love. Tears pour from my eyes as I vocalize gratitude to that which guided these souls to and through my body. I express gratitude for the opportunity to birth them and to be a student of their journeys, including the journeys of theirs that are intertwined with mine. In these moments I hold them close and tell them that they are everything to me. I make sure they know that, in spite of the chaos characterizing our present time on Earth, our love and devotion to one another is steady; that together we are a giant pillar of truth and light for the world at large. They always laugh and hug me in return after I say these things, and they tell me that I am the best mom ever. They wipe my tears and make the baby giggle at their antics. The baby nurses and plays with my hair as I feel into the deep magic of our present moment together. The way we lock eyes is proof that we are one.

In moments when I feel overburdened by all that is required to raise three children in the modern, grieving world, I hold my baby to my chest and make my way to our bed. I lie with her while she nurses and falls asleep. Allowing my eyes to close, I rest my body as my mind takes me to another time entirely. I go back to the night where I gave birth to her on my bedroom floor. I remember my husband handing her to me. I remember looking into her eyes. I remember the way she tasted like the ocean when I gently sucked the fluid from her nose. I remember her latch, as strong and confident as her emergence into this earthly realm. The life force that carried her body from my womb and through my sacred portal brought with it a new mother, and in those first few weeks with her I became the woman I had always sensed at my center. I was strong, capable and powerful. Finally, I was free.

When I remember my baby's freebirth I remember what I have done in my past, and what I can do in my present and future. I remember that in life's most primal human moments, I am me. That this "me" is always here. I can always tap into the strength that I had the night she was born. Because of her birth, I have evolved, and it couldn't have happened a moment sooner. Her timing transcends the concept of "perfection."

Babies born during this time of duress know why they are here. They are creating mothers and families that the earth so desperately needs. They are sustaining mothers and families by gifting us with rushes of oxytocin, strong intuitions and an urge to thrive and orient to that which sustains life. These babies are gifts. They are tiny bodies filled with love and a commitment to thriving life. They are souls perfectly suited to all that is required for this shifting of paradigms. My baby shows me this in the way she completes me and our family. Connecting with her allows me to feel this as truth. Her spirit has kept our family grounded, preventing us from spiraling into the deep abyss of fear that has been presented to us by the powers that were. She reminds us of the wonders of living and learning. She inspires us to bravely continue forward into uncharted territory. I couldn't imagine going through such a wild time without her and her sisters by my side, for she is me, they are me, they are each other, and we are one. I gave my three daughters life, and they continue to give me life in return.

May all the babies and mothers raising their young during these times be seen and heard, for while we are strong, we are not meant to be strong without being witnessed. We are wading through what feels like shark-infested waters with our children on our backs. We were forgotten and dismissed by society a long time ago, but in 2020 and beyond we were quite literally invisible to the world as we raised our children behind closed doors. True public health centers mothers; it does not force them to isolate under the instruction of false prophets. Our babies are blessings, and we will not settle for a world that does not honor their lives, or all LIFE in its entirety. Our children are the future and we are their protectors. Just as we gestated and gave birth to them, we shall gestate and give birth to the new Earth, whether the world is paying attention or not.

Rest assured, we are strong enough. Rest assured, we are wise enough. Rest assured, we are ready.

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