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One of the most sobering moments in a woman’s life is when her daughter becomes a mother.
Sometimes this happens by accident, too soon, and a great deal of drama precedes the inevitable joy of that baby’s arrival. Sometimes it happens almost as an afterthought, in what we call the “normal” way. A relationship turns into a marriage and the baby shows up and it’s lovely. And sometimes it happens as the result of long term trial and error, after a miscarriage, after research and difficulty and desperate hope. It happens not because it came easy, but because both mommy and daddy did everything in their power to make a space in their lives for this baby to come to them.
This was the case for my daughter.
When Chloe and Bleu were expecting their child, they decided on a home birth. Chloe was born at home, and I loved the idea that she’d get to experience that relatively stress-free, cozy way of welcoming your child into the world. They had also planned for a transition to the hospital if warranted, so that no matter which way it went, it would be how it was supposed to go.
The first brilliant thing they did as a couple was to create a private space around themselves for the birthing process. If you’re not careful, this holy moment can be crowded out by a great deal of superfluous energy, tension, wonked-out…
