Here's my shy-guy-space-boy. You can't see is four teeth in this picture, but they're there. Boy, howdy, are they there. Just ask my boobies.***********
I went to my first Blessingway on Sunday. A Blessingway, or a "Mother Blessing," is a Lakota ceremony that has made it into mainstream living rooms, where women gather to honor a woman who is about to give birth. My friend Kara was the mother of honor this weekend, and I still tremble when I think of all the life that was in that room. There was a pulse, a heart, a smack of thunder. It was one of the most authentic experiences of my life.
We did not hug trees or brush Kara's hair or wash her feet. We did sip tea and make a birthing necklace and give her an item from nature that would go into a basket meant to be a focal point during labor. We shared stories and poems; we drew on her belly with non-toxic eyeliner. Our purpose was to give Kara birth energy and to let the baby know that it was welcome in this world.
This was not a baby shower--not at all. No one even brought a baby gift "just to be safe." The safety was in the company of each other, and in the recognition that wrapping toilet paper around a pregnant woman's belly after guessing "how many squares around" she is, does nothing whatsoever to prepare a woman for the experience ahead of her.
Beautiful. Simply beautiful.
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