It has been almost eight months since my baby daughter, little B., was born.  Those first three months were the hardest in so many ways, but the last five have been beautiful.  I was writing to a friend recently about what it’s been like since my daughter joined us in this world, and decided today was the day to update the blog.

Eight months have passed already.  Eight of the most challenging, yet most powerful months of my life.  She is not yet a year old and she has already changed me in so many ways.

I’ve held off writing for a long time because the birth and the first few months postpartum were incredibly difficult for both her and me.  During that time I also found out about another past life she and I shared which was triggered by her birth, adding a different dimension to our postpartum struggles.  I will write about all of this in future posts.  As mentioned, the most recent past five months have been wonderful – but it’s taken me that long to recover from the first part of our journey together.

To my joy, the pregnancy was healthy right up until the end.  No gestational diabetes, no terrible pregnancy symptoms except for those which were energetic in nature.  I wasn’t even that uncomfortable in the last trimester because she was quite small.  I was impatient to meet her, but I wasn’t physically at the breaking point that you read about with most pregnancies.

I was convinced, given her past life trauma and fears about being born, that B. would be two weeks late.  It’s fairly common for the first pregnancy to last two weeks past the due date anyway, and I figured that given her anxieties about birth, she would be no different.  But right from the start, little B. did things on her own terms (should I have expected anything less?).  She was actually born a full week early, on a stormy October night with rain pouring down, via an emergency C-section.  She caught us all off guard with that one.

The previous night, my husband and I had gone for a lovely walk under the glowing energy of a fall Super Moon.  It was huge and bright and powerful, and I had been told psychically that I needed to walk under its light, so I dragged my husband out.  As we were walking, I was drawn to visualize the moon’s energy filling each of my chakras, cleansing and energizing each of them in succession.

Later Heath told me that all of that was little B., who had decided to use the energy of the Super Moon to “power through” being birthed, even though it was a week early, because she was so nervous to enter this world.  I woke up at 4am that next morning with light, early labor twinges, and by 6pm we were driving through the heavy downpour to the hospital while my body was wracked with waves of active labor pain.  By 8pm I was not fully dilated but the top of her head was visible – she was on her way out, whether or not we were ready.

And then she froze.  She stopped her descension, her heart rate dropped drastically and did not rebound, and after a period of monitoring they took me in for an emergency C-section for her safety.  I’m convinced it was fear that froze her, last-minute anxiety and regret about choosing to come back.  I could feel it, even through the physical pain of labor.

After an hour of surgery, at 9:30 that night, my baby girl entered the world.  When we heard her first cry, my husband and I cried.  When I saw her small, dark-haired little head, her scrunched-up, wrinkled little face, I couldn’t believe it was her.  When I held that feather-light, tiny body, I was in awe that I was finally meeting this being that I had shared so much with psychically and energetically.

There are no words for when you first meet your baby, the soul you’ve been carrying for 40 weeks.  All I could think, and the first thing I said to her, was, “Thank you for choosing us, and welcome back, sweet girl.  I am so very, very proud of you.”