In some sort of labor, now.

There are no exact parallels, no even exchanges available to compare to the physical experience of laboring towards an unmedicated vaginal delivery.

None.

But if I were to liken this January of twenty and twenty three of my life to the

one

two

three

four

five

times I labored to deliver a human being with a sober mind and through raw body -

I would say that I am indeed in some sort of labor, now. I am indeed moving toward the delivery of something, something that I am eager to see, find myself in awe of,

to know,

to find joy in,

to embrace,

to love.

Feeling protective, and vulnerable.

One feels that way, at such a time. It’s a humbling way.

I need a minute to myself.

I need some hours to navigate the waves.

I need it to be quiet while I work here. Space filled with peace that surpasses all that don’t nobody understand here. Need that peace here. This pressure, the way with which my whole being is extended, the way my body and my mind is drawn, here.

I don’t want to spread my legs here, in the open with all everybody here, this is not my place of peace, not here.

This is my body. This is my labor. This is my delivery. This is my life. This is my glory.

Let me have my glory

to know,

to find joy in,

to embrace,

to love.

One feels that way. It’s a humbling way.

Feeling protective, and vulnerable.

I must say that I am indeed in some sort of labor, now.