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Why I'm Practicing Labor Breaths 7 Years Later

It was 9 months ago they wanted to Skype. By the looks on their faces, we knew what was coming.

With their news, I was taken back to those days of positive tests and calling our family and soaking in the baby bliss.

And she's so done so well, documenting each month's progress and designing the perfect pink-and-floral-room. I've watched from a distance, reminding myself that at one point I didn't know, either, that the hard work begins after labor and picking out the changing table and registering for what we think we need.

I tried to call this morning, to tell her it would be soon, that I was rooting for her as she has watched 41 weeks pass, her due date come and gone.

I can't talk. Having a rough morning, she texted back. Not sure how you did this 3 times.

And I found myself practicing labor breaths while folding laundry, puffing in and out in solidarity and motherhood. I paced my Texas apartment, picturing her in Nashville walking, wincing, experiencing this part for the first time with my brother by her side.

Come, on sister-you can do this.

I can't tell her yet that it will be worth it, that everything changes in ways you can't know until the life you've made is looking up at you. There are no words that can ease the pain as my niece begins her entrance into the world.

She has plans for a doula/midwife/no drugs birth, and I admire her.

I also know her daughter will count her a hero someday, no matter how she meets the world.

We all have to learn as we go, this thing called parenting. It's loud and it's messy and sometimes we don't like our own children. She doesn't know yet, but she will question and doubt more than she thought she could over someone so small.

The physical pain is now, but in several more hours her heart will fill and she will be changed. No words I have can express this to her.

She will figure it out, like we all did.


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