Birthing Wall

This is a copy of the letter I sent to the women who helped create my Birthing Wall.

21 December 2006
Dear Road Gang Girls, Sisters, Mothers, and Elders,

I asked each of you to create a piece of birth art to be added to a birthing wall made of pictures, words, stories, quotes, and photographs that would help me remain calm, focused, and inspired during labor. My vision was to have a reminder of the powerful and magical energy that surrounds each of you to lift me up during the toughest parts of labor. When the midwives arrived at our house, and we all soon learned that our baby had died inside my womb, the toughest part of labor became something none of us had ever expected. The birthing wall took on a different role than planned- a role that has held me together during these early days of grief for the loss of our daughter, Arianna.

I assembled the birth wall on a wintery Wednesday afternoon when the house was quite and the air still. I pinned each image to an old sheet tacked to the wall across from our bed. Slowly the spaces were covered with pictures of flowers, poems from Rumi, prayers from the bible, drawings from artists, and single words of power and clarity. Throughout the days to follow, I would walk past the big colors and bold words of the wall, letting the images sink into my body. I would wake in the morning and gaze at of the passages, letting the words seep into my skin. At night I would invite the pictures into my dreams, all the while becoming ever more excited for labor to begin. And soon it did.

During a Friday evening dinner party contractions began with great welcome and anticipation. But our excitement plummeted deeply when we later learned that our baby would not be born alive. Labor continued, despite our devastation, and in the darkness of Saturday morning, I pushed on the floor at the foot of our bed under a great wall of strength that was created by each of you. Truth be told, I didn’t look once at the wall. My only focus was within my body. But as Brian caught Arianna, and the sun came up on a new day, the wall stood before me as I recovered in bed. Oddly, each picture and each word was perfectly fitting for the new circumstance. The words intended to guide me through a contraction- allowing, centering, accepting, surrendering- became words to guide me through grief. The beauty of the images gently reminded me that not all of life is perfectly cruel. The collective wall held me as I thought of the feminine strength that created it. I felt each of you there.

The wall remains nearly three weeks after the death of Arianna and stands steady at the times when I do not. The wall took on a magic and perhaps even an intellect of its own to help me when I needed it most. When I needed it most was not during the intensity of labor, for the primitive knowledge of my body took over. I didn’t need to reread the words or reexamine the pictures, for they and the power they contained, were already within me. What I thought would be the hardest pain turned out to be the easiest. When I did need the wall most was during the throws of unexpected, unexplained grief. I need the wall as time ticks by, leading me away, forcing me to move on. I need the wall as I renavigate my life. I need the wall to help me as I slowly regain my own strength and rediscover my own power. And for this I am thankful.

I love you all,
Ava