One Voice

I step up to the door and wait, listening. Inside, I can hear muffled voices, mostly feminine. One voice carries stronger than the others as Eliana sings with her bodies strength.

I text to daddy that I am here and entering the house. He texts back "ok". And I open the door quietly. To the right is the kitchen, lit by candles, as grandma and 3 year old Katelyn make some tea for mama. I shed my shoes, for I am on holy ground, and enter into the sanctuary of birth.

I sink to my knees at the edge of the birthing pool and take Eliana's hands. The midwife coos to her while taking out her equipment. Grandma comes in with the warm tea and Eliana opens her eyes to smile at me.

"Hi", she breaths.

"Hi", I smile.

She moves like a sea nymph, gliding from shore to shore, bestowing kisses on the faces of her loved ones before drifting off into the waves again.

Murmured, gentle voices sing out a love song to her, weaving a tapestry that envelopes Eliana as she drifts in and out of space and time.

Her midwifes deep timbre offering a beacon of light to her journey, her mothers empathetic lilt, intoning gentle empathy, her daughters sing-song sweetness, calling to a mystery she has yet to understand, and me, her doula, moaning and humming with gentle encouragement.

In this place, this moment, I can hear the echo, like distant shadows, of labors past.Culminating in one voice, we call to her from distant shores, while she drifts on the tide of self-discovery, seeking safe passage.

Her song deepens, moving into the chests of those witness to her. It becomes a tangible being, stirring our souls, gripping our hearts, and dancing across our memories.

I hear Ancient Woman stamping her feet in the dusty earth, throwing her head back to sing to the heavens.

I hear Medieval Woman swaying gently by the firelight, humming a low, guttural song while her sister rubs her swollen abdomen.

I hear grandmothers, mothers, sisters, and daughters... beating the earth and bringing harmony to Eliana's melody, a beautiful orchestration of many, of one.

Rolling her head on her shoulders, Elaina sings now of power, the sea having brought her to the shore of realization. She sings of coursing rivers, brilliant light, pressure, and ecstasy.

Our voices fade away as she commands all audience. Culminating in climactic expectation, she sings one last note.... and pauses, tears slipping from her eyes and dropping to the face of the newborn now cradled in her arms. And a new voice, never heard on earth before. The voice of the Babe, mewls forth in tentative triumph. And we erupt in jubilation - one voice