<p dir=ltr><p dir=ltr>I am blogging from outside of my husband's job.&nbsp; They have come up with this wacky new policy that, since the new manager is a woman, someone must stay until she lives to escort her to her vehicle.&nbsp; This does not please me, especially since they aren't keeping him on the clock. </p>
<p dir=ltr>That's another story.</p>
<p dir=ltr>Anywho, two of my internet friends gave birth on the first. I just realized that they both had their third babies. One had her first girl after 2 boys and one had her first boy after 2 girls. Crazy, huh?
Anywho, I was thinking about how powerful labor is, how it imprints itself on your life, your psyche.
It's crazy to say but I kinda love labor. I love how raw and human and real it is. I love the dichotomy of weakness and power. I love the anticipationans excitement, the warping of time. I love to hear the stories of other women and to tell my own.
And I especially love Popcorn's labor. I love how supported I was. There were no time limits, no interruptions. It was me, my body, and my midwives. I wish all my labors could have been so real.
I hate that cultural made labor something to fear and to dread instead of something to respect and embrace. There's a chaotic beauty to it that so many women miss.
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