Updated: May 30, 2020
The waiting went on and on and yet there was a cellular knowing that it would end. Her skin was so taut it was hot to the touch as she caressed the melon of a womb she had grown in 41 wks. She was in a perpetual embrace with her dream child, girl child. Awkwardly, and yet gracefully, she circulated her hips and she danced, attempting to lift each leg as she went. As her temperature rose in the crowded dance group, she pulled up her shirt to reveal the flesh of mothering. Once revealed, she wanted to strip naked among the community and be seen and embraced, even more for the powerful goddess she had become, but also for the one she carried just beneath her skin.
(6min. free write in Birthing Myself Course with Molly Caro May, 2020)