Birthy mind

March 26, 2012 at 11:16 pm

So I have these pillows on my couch. I bought them about five years ago ’cause I liked the colors and they looked like they’d fit well in my “international” family room. Some time in the last year, however, I was staring at one of the pillows (probably while breastfeeding), and it hit me. Maybe you’ll see what hit me, if I show you a pic…

When my friends were in town a couple of weeks ago and the subject of my pillows came up, one friend said something about my “dirty mind.” Cue my gasp of mock horror. I quickly replied, “There is nothing dirty about this,” gesturing to my pillow.

I guess I’d prefer to call it a “birthy mind.” When I look at my pillows, I see a baby emerging into its crown, a gift given by its mother, paid-for with her blood, sweat, and tears. But even if all you (or I) saw was yoni, yoni, yoni, I still wouldn’t call it “dirty.” I never intended to decorate my family room with female genitalia, but now that I’ve noticed it, it seems fitting, given who I am.

I see birth everywhere, wombs everywhere, placentas everywhere…

If I took a Rorschach inkblot test, I’d probably say things like, “baby navigating through a female pelvis,” or “amniotic fluid bursting onto a bed sheet,” for each one. ;-)

Dirty? Nah. Birthy? You betcha.