Birth of a Mother

In these final weeks and days I realize my own process unfolding within this greater process.  Certainly a birth seems that with this upcoming birth of new life, also is facilitating the death of what will no longer serve me in this next chapter. And the suffering happens when I choose to hold on.  Resistance surfaces as stories of unworthiness, inability, fear. What will my life be like now? What will my body be like? Will all go smooth during the birth? What kind of pain are we talking about? Will I be able to breastfeed? Will my babe be born healthy?

The resistance seems to be connected to a deep-seeded story of unworthiness. The part of me that doesn't believe in myself.  The part of me that feels small, insecure, ugly, and undeserving.  These dark, shadow parts of myself are ready to receive the warm glow of love and acceptance. I realize that this IS part of the birth.  I feel waves of tightening, contracting and then ::ahhhh::: opening and expansion. I too am being born.

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