soft morning sun streaming yellow through translucent white window shades

Two years ago, I woke up at 4 in the morning with a smile on my face.

I knew he was coming, was on his way, and I was oh-so-ready to meet that little guy.

I stayed up late a few nights before his birthday last week and I wrote

and wrote

and wrote

and wrote

the whole story of his birth

and how I felt and what it meant.

I poured through photos of me dancing in the doorway and kneeling over a giant blue ball, hands clasped in my husband's. Of me on my knees in a tub of water in my living room, soft morning sun streaming yellow through translucent white window shades on a cold, quiet Friday morning in November.

Of my morphing face, frame by rapid frame, as my midwife lifts him from the water

and rests him in my arms, against my chest

wonder and joy, captured in dots per inch.

My husband peering over my shoulder, reaching past and lifting one chubby pink leg to get a peek, and our dropped jaws, our smiles.

I can hear the laughter through the photograph

A boy! Another boy!

He's here!

He's here. My baby is two.

Happy birthday, my Axel, my love. We are so, so happy you're here.

:::

I had intended to share what I wrote of Axel's birth story, but when I sat down at the computer, I never looked back to my notebook and this is what came out instead. Who knew. But I do know that when I was pregnant with my boys and planning my homebirths, birth stories were encouraging and empowering for me to read. So if you have any questions about homebirth, or just love reading birth stories, please feel free to email me at clarity.chaos at gmail.