Reflections on Labor

First Lessons by Philip Booth

Lie back daughter, let your head
be tipped back in the cup of my hand.
Gently, and I will hold you. Spread
your arms wide, lie out on the stream
and look high at the gulls. A dead-
man's float is face down. You will dive
and swim soon enough where this tidewater
ebbs to the sea. Daughter, believe
me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you.

I am pretty sure I have posted this poem before but it now has additional meaning to me as it was one of the poems that helped me get through labor and delivery. It has almost been 7 weeks and I continue to process the experience of Jamison entering the world. I recently got to look at the photos that my dear friend Jessica took during the last two hours of labor. I am grateful for these photos and how I get to see a perspective that was not possible in the moment. The photos still bring me to tears every time I look at them. A spiritual experience of productive pain is how I have been thinking about it lately.