Chapter - 4 - Power...

     He said that he loved her and wanted to get married, but when she got pregnant, he disappeared and never returned. At first she was upset, but then she said she was done weeping, and made a conscious decision to "be happy for the sake of the baby". Many people were single parents. She could do this…
     It was the 4^th of July weekend when her contractions started. She lived an hour and a half away so decided to rent a nearby motel room where she could labor until she was ready to go to the hospital.
     When I entered the motel room she was laying on the bed as stiff as a plank, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. Her parents were visiting from Long Island and had rented the room next to her. Their voices were loud and their worried concerns penetrated the thin walls. She jammed a pillow in her mouth so they would not hear her.
     The contractions were coming steadily every three minutes and felt strong to my touch, yet when I examined her, I was surprised to find that her cervix had not opened—it was closed tight like it had been sewed shut with baling wire. If her breath could find its voice, I thought, it would take the tension off the cervix—but I could see that she was too inhibited with her parents next door to let that happen.
     I looked into her wild, scared eyes and said without hesitation, "Let’s blow this place." She pointed to the wall, and frantically nodded yes. I pulled my car up, ran next door to explain to her parents that we were just going to the hospital so she could be more comfortable, and in the three minute interval between contractions, loaded her into the car…"Hi mom, dad…I’m just fine…I’ll call you…Gotta go…Bye"…And then, BAM, the next one hit, and her head took a bite out of the pillow.
     When we arrived at the birthing room in the hospital, I said, "This room is sound proof. How cool is that." "Sound proof? Really?" she gasped. "Honest", I lied.
     The next contraction came and she grabbed both of my arms, yanked me across the twin bed, opened her mouth wide and began to roar at the top of her lungs in my face. She not only sounded like a lion, she looked like one! She roared and snarled and I thought my heart would stop. When the contraction stopped she collapsed on the bed and I staggered back trying to catch my breath—until…the next contraction, and again…she grabbed me and began to roar. It went on and on like this, her face contorted—nine months of rage spewing in my face. "That son of a bitch left me..."
     There was a knock at the door. "What?" I said with a little irritation. I did not like people coming in and disturbing women in labor. The nurse was crazed. "Every patient in this hospital is awake and thinks there is a mountain lion loose in the halls. What in the hell is going on in there?" "Uh…I see. Well, we’re good really. Things are pretty good, moving along. Hear how the pitch of her voice is dropping? She should be ready to push any time now." I gently closed the door leaving her frustrated and bewildered and returned to my patient.
     As the labor progressed, her face relaxed, and her breath became soft and sensual, like the earth itself was breathing. ‘Come out, little one. I’m ready," she whispered.
     She gently massaged her perineum and slowly delivered the baby’s head into her hands. As the shoulders eased out, she lifted the baby to her breast. She became utterly absorbed. Gently she caressed her new daughter, singing her a soft lullaby,
     As I sat on the end of her bed, watching the timeless union of mother and child, I realized that she had taught me how it’s possible to transform rage into power, a power so magnificent, so sublime, so primal—a woman could transcend the frailty of her human limitations and experience, and push consciousness out of her body into a field of exquisite tenderness and unbounded love.