When I look at that face, I don’t see the face of a warrior.  A survivor, maybe.

I was going to share my birth stories here.

One of the ways I got ready for having my babies was reading other people’s stories. I especially enjoyed the ones where the woman would feel a little “off”, and then deliver a baby 15 minutes later.

I figured it would be good to go back through my stories, which I wrote not long after the births of each of my kids, read them again, and clean them up.

I had forgotten how raw birth is, and how private.

One of the reasons I had home births for all my kids after my firstborn is because of the feeling of having no control I experienced with my hospital birth.

That was the first story I read.

I realized I wouldn’t be sharing those stories yet.

My oldest just turned 15 this month, and I am not ready to share his story, and mine. It is too personal.

I thought I could just remove those parts, but it turns out, they are the whole story.

Birth is a big deal. You make a human being, and then in the most wrenching way possible, you bring them out into the world. It’s not as simple as when the contractions started or if your water broke.

As I read my story, I wondered if the way my babies were born will ever be something I can share. Maybe I started with the wrong story.

I will have to let a little more time pass before I know.