There is no such thing as a perfect birth

I watched; amazed at the woman in front of me. Brave. Courageous. She pushed her baby magnificently. She listened to her body. She owned the moment. It was perfect. She had worked hard for this. She had done all the research, she had read all the books, she had eaten all the right foods. She was beautiful and I was so amazed watching her that I had to fight back tears.

In spite of my awe, I also noticed that something was not quite right. In the next 20 minutes this woman and her baby suffered several complications which had us traveling to the hospital via ambulance arriving before the first hour ever passed.

Next, I stood in the tiny hospital room. Covered in her blood. Watching her on a gurney. Brave. Couragous. She calmly answered the hostile doctor's questions. She withstood the rolling eyes and the belittling comments. I fought to hold back the tears because I wanted her birth experience to be all that she had fought for it to be.

A week later I stood at her door. When it opened I braced myself. In front of me stood a woman with a baby in her arms. Shining. Strong. Vibrant. Rejoicing. She got the point of it all. She empowered herself because in that experience of her birth she learned that there is no perfect birth only imperfect ones which we learn much about ourselves in. I learned from her. I learned to grieve a little less about the complications. I learned to rejoice in the power of the journey.