I kept dancing through my whole pregnancy. I still remember riding my bicycle every morning through the city, struggling against the wind and rain coming from the west, finding my way through the traffic. I felt a passion and urgency to keep moving. My belly was not too big yet, so I could still attend the technique classes every morning. Some days there were musicians playing live, the drums filling the space with their ancient voices. I was surfing on the rhythm, my body round and earthy but more alive inside than ever. The added weight gave me extra momentum, filled my movement with presence as if leaving a mark in space. I felt like a bumble bee, sometimes a bit clumsy, with a slower orbit, but being lifted by a current rising from deep within the Earth. It felt so intimate, knowing that I carried my baby within me, being one in the dance, safe and protected in the womb, but already moved by the rhythm of the drums.
Then the day arrived. My water broke around 18.00 in the afternoon. The labour pains slowly increased through the hours. Time stood still. A girlfriend came to support me, and the father of my child was preparing the bedroom, transforming it into a sacred temple with crystals and other objects which held the power of healing.
Night came slowly, enwrapping me in her black soft silence, as a storm brewed inside of me. It had its own rhythm: It calmed down just long enough to let me take some deep breaths; then it started to build up again, taking me into a state of chaos like huge ocean waves washing over me, the outer world disappearing, my body being torn in different directions in one moment and in the next moment contracting so strongly I was in agony. I could hardly bear it. I wanted to send my child back, but there was no going back now. It kept pushing, the force of nature was furious, “Now is the moment, just breathe and open and let go” was the message. Then, like an earthquake, an immense force pushed up from the depths. There was no escaping this anymore, the only choice was surrender.
The attendants helped me up to sit on a birthing chair. Marc held me from the back, giving me strength; the midwife was in front of me, encouraging me and letting me know that she was there. An archaic power took hold of me. I was disappearing; my body took over, it knew what to do. I had never experienced anything like this in my life. In that moment I became a wild force, raw, impetuous, connected with the female collective power which had left its imprint in my blood, in my heart, in my soul.
And then, there she was, having arrived at last after this journey from another planet! Her skin was light, but her hair dark. I called her 'moon child'.
Finally I could hold her in my arms. My breasts were full of milk, almost bursting, and I longed for her to drink from this honey, to nourish her and strengthen her immune system. She would lie next to me night after night, between me and her father, safe and loved from the first moment on. After a few weeks I put her in her own little bed next to ours and I remember waking up in the middle of the night to see her laying there so innocent and untouched by life, her white skin lit up by the moon shining through the skylight in our room.
Now after 30 years a new baby is born. My daughter gave birth to a girl last summer. She is called Mila Noe. There is a sadness in my heart because I have only seen her once and I am longing to get to know her and hold her in my arms. She is beautiful, fierce and full of bubbling energy, ready to discover life. An unstoppable force, open and real, no filters yet, no conditioning yet, just herself. Whatever moves and touches her from inside, she is there, she shows it immediately, recognisable, pure.
What wisdom these babies have, so sensitive and strong at the same time. Being with them brings a huge gift of love and the invitation to remember our own innocence, to connect to our own inner child and play, celebrate, enjoy the moment. Each step brings us into a new place, reveals a new perspective, gives a new experience, if we are open and our eyes can see with innocence. To love and see and accept what is. To listen to our own truth, trusting our intuition and our instincts. To be authentic and unstoppable as rolling thunder, sensitive as a butterfly and compassionate as a heart full of love.