“If you can’t get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you’d best teach it to dance.” ~ George Bernard Shaw
So teach myself to dance I did. I had skeletons from my previous births. The joy of gazing into all my babies eyes never became more beautiful, but the skeletons remained. My previous births were dominated by fear, lack of control and pain. I had the dance inside me, but I was yet to discover it.
You, came along, and taught be the beauty of movement. The power that comes from knowledge. You taught me the steps and together we changed each others worlds. 2 years ago, we danced, a dance that you continue to this day.
The movements began in the early hours of Saturday morning. Early shifting and tightening inside my body. You told me your time was coming soon. I got up, packed and spent the night listening to you. By morning the movements slowed, things were not progressing as I had thought. The skeletons had caused me to think too much about the dance. The steps felt unfamiliar and clumsy. I was moving to the music of your brothers’ births, and not to the sound of you.
Over the next few days, we pirouetted around each other. I had learnt the steps, but was not letting you lead. They say that the greatest dancers are not the best technicians, rather the ones with the greatest passion. I was yet to find the balance between the great technician, and the instinct and passion. It would come…
3 day later, the movements were still coming and going. It was Tuesday morning and we headed to the Doctor. She confirmed that things were moving along. There was subtle progress. You were leading me through the motion of your birth. You were doing at your own pace in your own time. I had to be patient and trust you, my body and our birth. Your birth was progressing so differently that your brothers, and I had to do my part and leave their births behind. This dance was different.
Late Tuesday night during a tightening, your water broke. It was like you were sending me a message. You were coming ever closer. The motions inside me became more intense, it was time to quieten, get comfortable to hand myself over to you. I let you lead the dance, I became your true partner.
We headed to the hospital. I was thrilled to see a familiar midwife. Kim became a partner. She read our plan, and spent the entire time with us. Gently encouraging, but keeping her distance. She allowed us the space to do what we needed to orchestrate our beautiful meeting. We had been tuning up, and now it was time to perform. You gently but firmly placed your entire being around my body and guided me toward one of the most powerful moments of my life.
Your daddy provided me with wonderful support. Massaging, holding me, and supporting me in this beautiful dance. Hips rocking, breath calm and controlled. His eyes spoke to me, and kept me focused. Transition had been gentle and peaceful. I breathed through a relaxation track which I had been training with for 4 months. For 20 minutes I lay in a totally relaxed state. I was aware of you moving through me, I was shaking, but lay totally silent. It was amazing.
1.5 hours after arriving at the hospital, you spoke to me. It was time. Get ready to meet me Mumma, I’m coming. I panicked. I was not ready. Again, I forgot that I was doing this on your schedule. The skeletons crept out. I looked deep into your Daddy’s eyes, and he gave me strength. He told me to stay calm and breath you from my body. The moment had arrived, one moment to change us for a lifetime.
Seven minutes later, you arrived gently into peaceful silence and darkness. You arrived into my own hands, and I held you, in awe of that moment. Just like with your brothers, time stood still. Just like with your brothers, I fell instantly in love. You were awake and aware, but made no sound. You just looked deeply and strongly into my eyes. We did it. We danced. The dance took us over the rainbow, because birds fly over the rainbow, and so did we. Your daddy played this song moments after you entered the world. It was the soundtrack of our journey together, and still transports me back to that moment. Strangely enough, you still love the sound of a ukelele…
2 Years later your birth still inspires me. You taught me to let go, and allow myself to be in the moment. You taught me that no two moments present the same opportunities. You taught me to be.
So keep dancing my beautiful daughter, allow your feet to follow the music. Be brave and strong, peaceful and beautiful. All the things you allowed me to be on this day 2 years ago. Fly high with grace, happiness and authenticity.
To dance is to reach for a word that doesn’t exist,
To sing the heart-song of a thousand generations,
To feel the meaning of a moment in time..
Clementine Nell Jury Robinson
simply perfect in every way.