My mother came today to help put together womb kits for campesinxs. We mixed medicinal herbs together to make anemia tea and filled containers with a handmade medicinal salve.
My mother, a wholistic midwife and doula, who has spent her life advocating for people in their birthing process. My mother who gave birth to four children ~naturally~ (and will never fail to mention it).
My mother, who when she carried me in her womb sang and whispered poems to me, who when I was welcomed into the world and diagnosed with a rare heart disease did not leave my side at the hospital for days, whose embrace and voice elevated my oxygen levels — listening to her, being near her, I could breathe again. My heart beat strengthened with her presence.
The bond between life-giver and child is unique, and I am blessed to have had the opportunity to continue this bond. My mother. My unique, tender, imperfect, and strong mother. She taught me to know my body, to listen, to care for my womb with tenderness, and respect the sacred process of our cycles, however they present. We watched live birth videos (on cassette tape 😅) to show me where life began. Hers was the first woman’s body I watched move in the world.
My mother, whose own history stings with abuse, yet reminds me of the beauty of love and pleasure. Having my mother here today felt important — my first instructor of womb health, advocacy for womb carriers, and love of self. We felt the presence of her grandmother, my great grandmother, who was also a birth worker and midwife in her community and has always served as a guide for my mother.
My mother, a downright character with a smile that won’t quit. And of course, she brought cookies.
