A week ago I was double timing steps as I was waiting to pick up Aggie from her morning program. I was sleeping while she slept. I was walking around parks and forests barefoot trying to connect to the earth, to remember where I came from, to remind myself of what I am capable of but most of all to remember that both she and I were worthy of the birth we wanted.

I was scheduled to go in at 41+4 for the start of my herbal induction. My midwives here wanted to give themselves 3 days to ensure I was in active labour by 42 weeks – at that point, they would have to transfer my care to the hospital. After Aggie’s birth it wasn’t that I was totally opposed to the hospital, it was that I just had never envisioned that my obstacle would be what they deemed a late term baby. Of all the stresses I had carried for the 41 + 4 weeks, that just wasn’t ever anything I had thought about. Position? Sure, a posterior baby will do that to you. Connection? Absolutely, nothing but meeting her was going to change that. Medical Intervention? Yup. Fear of Stalled Labour? Yes Yes Yes.

I’m sitting here staring at Birdie and my eyes are tired, they’re heavy after a mid day nap. There are dark circles under them, my body is leaking breastmilk and blood, my shoulders are achey from sleeping in weird positions and my feet are swollen from the heat.

I’ll take it all. Tiny reminders that a week ago, I started the process to meet this tiny human.

I woke up to a pretty heavy contraction. I rolled myself out of bed and walked over to Aggie’s room to check on her – something I was in the habit of doing in those last few pregnant weeks. The clock read 1:20am. I was disappointed to say the least – I had wished for my mucous plug to drop or my water to break every night for the past month and there I was again looking at the clock dreaming of when 5:30am would come around so I could finally get up for the day. Prodromal labour will do that to you. On and off contractions and so much more for the entire month of April. It started the night of my Seasonal Mama Dinner and just kept going – until I finally surrendered. Until I finally shared with my midwife how I was feeling, how truly exhausted I was, and that’s when she reminded me to find JOY. To dig deep into the ways I could experience and share joy everyday until our baby bird arrived. Starting that night I went home and poured myself a huge glass of wine. I lit candles, put on my favourite Billie Holiday record and just allowed myself to be in it. The prodromal labour stopped. It was just me, and Jeff and Agatha and the tiny human growing within.

I took myself on a date to the Minneapolis Institute of Art, we surprised Jeff at work and went out for steak frites, I ate the most delicious deli sandwich with the sun shining down on my face, Aggie and I romped barefoot in the forest, I blasted all of my favourite rap songs in the car with the windows down and every night before bed I would visualize her coming through me, breathing in love, breathing out fear.

I looked at the clock. 1:20am. I walked to the living room to watch the rain falling, the first spring rain storm of the season and then pop. A gush of water out of my body, fell onto the living room rug. A smile poured over my face, I even started laughing. I ran into our bedroom and told Jeff what had just happened. He smiled and said “I guess this is it”. We called our midwife, our doula and the sibling doula who was going to be watching Aggie. We made a video telling her that we were going to meet baby sister and that we couldn’t wait to get back to her. Within 20 minutes I was kneeling on the floor breathing heavily through contractions. I was embracing the spaces in between.

As soon as our sibling doula arrived I was on all fours in the back seat of our car working through the waves. It was so different from my labour with Agatha – for anyone else who’s experienced posterior labour you know you barely get a break. Sometimes two or even three contractions greet you back to back giving you no chance to regain your strength. But these – as intense as they were, offered me space – they offered me a chance to breathe and truly be in them.

I crawled out of the car barefoot dashing up the steps to the birth center trying to make it inside before the next surge hit. The room was dark and our midwife asked if she could check me. I immediately fell to my knees and surrendered to the next wave – our doula’s backup walked in and knelt behind me squeezing my hips together – the most amazing feeling in the entire world. Our insanely amazing doula called Jeff on the way to the birth center saying that she was at another birth, with a first time mama, and things were really slow moving, that she hoped she could join us but that she was pretty sure with all my prodromal labour I would be going very very quickly. It’s so amazing to me (but not surprising) that in this wild world of birth and labour nothing is a given. Nothing is a for sure. What we expect usually isn’t what happens. Her back up was glorious and we felt completely supported even though of course we wished that we could have had the amazingly strong and supportive woman who had guided us and loved on us those past 8 months.

As I made my way up to the bed I wasn’t sure what my midwife was going to say – 1cm? Barely effaced? I was prepared for the worst but my body was so deeply in labour that I think in my heart I felt like I knew this was it. She checked me and looked up – “Do you want to know where you’re at?” I asked if she was going to tell me to go home. She smiled and in the most lovely way possible she said “I’m going to invite you to stay, you’re 7cm dilated”. I beamed, I cried and then I surrendered.

Finally. This was it. We were doing it, we were in it. The room was dark, the birthing pool was filling and I was going one step at a time. The warm water relieved some of the tension but within five minutes of being in the tub I felt an incredible urge to push. Too fast I thought but I shouted, I need to push! My midwife encouraged me to follow my body and a second gush was released, this time filled with meconium. I got out of the tub and they checked to make sure the baby was okay – she was stressed. I made my way back onto my knees and with the next surge I knew I needed to start pushing. One step at a time, I started bearing down, I could feel her making her way.

They brought out a birthing stool and with the help of everyone in the room I made my way onto it, Jeff supporting me from behind. The pain was unimaginable. I was screaming. My midwife looked at me and said “Close your mouth and push the energy downward. Feel it, be in it, you are so brave, you’re surrounded by love” and immediately I slowed down. I started breathing and I let her come down. Her head first and then with some help her shoulder and finally I pulled her out. Exactly like I had visualized in my dream almost 4 months earlier. She was finally here. 4:46am.

We didn’t have a name picked out. The entire ten months we were both still struggling figuring out how to connect with who she was. Through the course of the morning we talked, we ate, we showered, we hugged, we cried and we breathed. A few weeks prior in the middle of a chiropractic session a white heron and an egret landed on the frozen lake outside my treatment room. It was like her soul was just visiting me, telling me she was on her way. Later that same week as Aggie and I were out for a walk a lonely duck crossed our path in the middle of a residential neighborhood. When Jeff brought up the name Beatrix I wasn’t sure, but after looking up and seeing that it meant voyager or traveler and bringer of joy it just felt right. Tope is my grandmother’s maiden name. And she’s fierce. She’s magic. She’s a total female warrior who I’ve always loved for her strength, honesty and humour. After that labour it just felt right.

I came across the nickname of Birdie after all of these birds coming into my life and put it out into the world. When we came home and introduced Aggie to her baby sister she looked at us and said she’s making noises, she sounds like a humming bird – and then proceeded to hum and run around the room. Jeff and I just looked at each other and smiled.

Birdie had found her way home to us.