Becoming transformed by the grief of new motherhood.

Stories from my womb and beyond.

Life as we know it  is a dancing cosmos, moving to the beat of the one song, the uni-verse. All around us eternal forces of expansion and contraction are at work, bringing creation into being, and cycling through the primordial origins of All That Is. 

We are a microcosm of this great and vast universe. We are a reflection of the one we call God. A divine piece of the whole, and a whole piece of the divine. Just as life itself is beating, pulsating, opening, and closing, so are we. Like the cycles of the moon, the ever changing seasons, we too have our own inner rhythm. 

There is a time for rest. A time for new visions. A time for action, A time for celebration. A time for dreaming, and a time for creation. In remembering our origins we can work with the flow of our inner seasons. 

We women move through the cycles of life, death, and rebirth… giving us the incredible capacity to be the embodiment of a full spectrum experience of life. It is in honoring these inner cycles and understanding the purpose of them that we can grow to see the medicine in both joy and pain.

The womb reflects the infinite nature of All That Is. It is through this sacred center that we can experience first hand the eternal nature of our own beingness. We are forever cycling through life, and more life. There is no end, no oblivion, for even in death there is a rebirth. 

I feel that we women are gifted. We hold the swaying ebb and flow of creation right in our own bodies. It is there in our wombs where all the answers can be found. The endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth tells us that all of life itself is about balance. It is about seeing it all, feeling it all, hearing it all, for we are the eyes and ears of the divine. It is through our hands and feet that God herself touches the earth. It is through the grass, flowers, and trees that God herself touches us. 

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My awakening into womb consciousness begins there, in the embrace of mother earth. 

Slowly, the untamed thickets of branches and brambles of the woods coaxed my primal instinctual self out of hiding, and into the light. It was Mother God herself who spoke to me in the wind, in the warmth of the sun's rays, and in the shimmering green of the forest canopy…

As I knelt on her holy ground and let my tears fall, I prayed to the Great Mother to show me the way. I was young, and filled with fear. Fear of judgment. Fear of ridicule. Fear of shame. Fear of things I didn’t know how to name at the time. I felt myself on the precipice of something much bigger than me. In my bones I knew that I was being ushered into an age old initiation of womanhood. As I sobbed and shivered out in the woods that day, I was praying to Mother God, and Mother Earth to guide me.

I had only just conceived with my first child at the time, and I could feel all the subtle changes in my body. The energy of new life was abundant within me…the soul of an ancestor returned hovered nearby as I grew their vessel in my womb. And yet, paralyzed by my fear, I welcomed denial as an attempt to soothe my frayed nerves . There’s no way I could be pregnant right? I’m just too young, I’m just not ready. 

 In the recesses of my mind I feebly attempted to convince myself that I wasn’t with child, that all of these strong emotional and spiritual feelings were figments of my traitorous imagination. But within a few days the inner conflict of my denial became too much to bear. I was internally fighting an inevitable process that had already been set in motion. I clung to my resistance like a life raft, thinking that I could undo what had already been done if I only tried hard enough.

 Alas, I could not live in my delusion forever. 

I had a storm raging within me, the truth was rising to the surface, and soon I felt it would spill all over me and out into the world around me… making one gigantic mess.

 The grief swirling and pooling with me was so fresh. Too raw for me to package it up neatly to be examined and processed. Too raw for me to conceal it. The grief was palpable, waves of energy rippling beneath my skin. It needed a way out, and I did not want a living soul to witness me as all of it came tumbling from my heart.

I felt that the only one who could hold me in the chaos was Mother Earth herself. So I found my way to the forest. I trekked alone through well worn paths, over gnarled tree roots and under heavy low branches. I walked  and walked and walked. 

When the only sounds that filled my ears were the birdsong, and rustling of the tree people, I knew that I was far from the presence of any other human. 

Finally then, I wailed long and loud. Deeply and unceasingly the cries came.

 I laid my hands on the solid ground, and knew that if it were not for this very earth I would have surely spiraled endlessly in the pain of my mourning. It felt as if the Great Mother was the only thing capable of holding me up.

As the whole mess of my emotions spilled out amongst the trees, the earth, and open sky, I felt as though I had never shed the heaviness of my heart with such intensity. At some point I began to pray out loud, pleading to the Great Mother with the fullness of my being. 

“Oh Mother Earth, if I am to be a mother, hold me on this path. Guide me, show me the way.” My words were simple, but between the lines of my whispered prayers I was asking for much more than just comfort and guidance. 

From the eternal seat of my soul, I was calling upon a great remembrance, a great awakening. I was praying to be strengthened into a woman that was strong enough to be The Mother. 

And so it was. 

This fateful day marked the beginning of a lifelong journey into the mysteries of the feminine. Since then I have undoubtedly become a woman transformed, and am forever grateful for the ancient unseen forces that are continuously guiding us back home to ourselves. 

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Tell me beloved, what stories are held within your sacred womb?