The string around my wrist binds me to a tribe of women. One, our loving teacher, and eight fertile feminine warriors.
We sat in a circle with our ankles crossed and our bulging bellies resting gently in our laps. We passed one long continuous thread from one woman to the next. Each one pausing to loop the thread around her wrist, connecting us all along the way. We sat for a few moments this way soaking up our last minutes as a group of pregnant mothers.
In six weeks this group grew, not only in circumference but also in heart. There was comfort in meeting with these couples each week. No judgements were passed. There was no talk of “you should do this” or “don’t do that.” Our minds were open for learning more about this miracle of child bearing and birthing. And each week there was an abundance of love in the room. The most surprising and greatest source came from the partners, the soon to be fathers, with questions first and foremost, for how to care for their women. I had never witnessed such loving and attentive men in my entire life. My husband, who’s always been loving and attentive, grew even more affectionate. He became gentler and kinder towards me. And we’ve done this all before. But there was something about this experience, being there with other couples and learning techniques to get through the pain of child birth together. It took our relationship to a higher level of intimacy.
And the level of respect everyone had for the life growing inside the womb was inspiring and reassuring. It reassured me that it is safe to bring another child into this world. Even at a time where things feel very uncertain and unsettled, there is still so much love and hope spreading from father to father, father to child, father to mother, mother to father, mother to child, mother to mother, belly to belly. There is so much love and kindness here. It is worth the all of the worries and obstacles that lie ahead. There is so much more love to give this world. And that is exactly what each child brings.
We cut our strings and put a small crystal on each one. One tiny bead of light to represent the balls of light protruding from our mid-sections.
We helped each other tie our strings snug against our wrists. The string will remain until the last child is born. When the final mother gives birth we will cut our strings releasing the old and welcoming the transformation of motherhood and life.
This simple bracelet I wear with pride and when I enter the hospital, I will know, I am not alone. My tribe is here, wrapped around my wrist, holding on through the pain as I push my way into euphoria.