I see you. The final weeks and days of pregnancy can be so trying. I know it's hard to be patient when you feel so ready to meet your baby, and to not be pregnant anymore. I know it's so hard to trust your body and the process when you're hearing words like 'overdue', and feeling like there must be something wrong with you if you're still pregnant. People will be asking 'is baby here yet?', and probably telling you all of the things you should be doing to hurry up and get your baby out, from eating spicy food to having sex, to membrane sweeps or a full-on medical induction.
The thing is, all of that outside fear and doubt isn't yours. You don't have to take it on.
You can trust your inner knowing, if you take a few moments to slow down and hear it.
If you can, for a moment, let everything but your breath and these words drift out of your mind. Let your mind only have room for the awareness of your breath, as you slow down and read each line. Follow your breath with your thoughts. Observe the ins and outs, the rise and fall. Feel the sensation of air entering and leaving your body, again and again.
When you've felt your shoulders relax, observe a few more breaths before you continue reading.
As your jaw releases, and the muscles of your face soften, place your hands on your belly and take in this blessing:
May you feel safe, held, and supported in your last weeks as one body.
When sleep doesn't come easily, may you welcome it as preparation for the months ahead.
When your baby kicks so hard that you cry out, may you wonder at their strength and be grateful for the reminder that they are strong and well.
When others give you advice or ideas, may you take on only what feels right for you.
When your body has aches and pains and heaviness, may you practice slowing down and being restful. When you wonder and worry and question how things will go, may you return to the knowings deep within you:
you are wise, you are ancient, you are ready.
May you feel safe, held, and supported when your birthing journey begins.
When the sensations start, may you welcome them with ease and wonder.
When the surges grow more intense, may you find your way to ride each one to its peak, and then release it as it fades away.
When you need a hand to hold, a drink to sip, an encouraging word, may it come to you readily, without your asking for it.
When it gets hard and you want to give up, may you hear the whispers of the mothers who come before you:
"Soften. Release. Let go."
When you aren't sure what to do or if you can go on, may you hear the echoes of your ancestors, deep within your bones:
you are wise, you are ancient, you are ready.
May you feel safe, held, and supported when you hold your baby in your arms.
When they look to you to meet their every need, may you trust your inner knowing: you are everything they need.
When you feel thirsty, hungry, sore, tired, and depleted, may there be hands and arms and hearts to feed you, rub you, hug you, nourish you, and allow you to rest deeply.
When your body is new and different and changing again, may you soften around it, be curious about it, and pour love into it.
When your relationships change, know that the most important relationship to tend to is yours with yourself. You are a new person, you've just been reborn. May you get to know this new you, explore their strengths, their truths, their soft and tender places.
May your reborn self radiate from within you, so that others can know and love this new you.
May you hear your inner voice ring clear and true:
I am wise. I am ancient. I am ready.
Now, I invite you to return to your breath, and the awareness of your body. If you'd like, close your eyes for a few minutes, and observe what's there for you: what feelings, what sensations, what thoughts. Take some time to be with yourself.
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