Becoming Mountain, Mother
The pleasurable birth of our sea goddess
Lidagat joined our realm during full moon on the mountain over Tongva Land, northeast LA. It was four in the afternoon when I reached down to see if I was dilated and felt her head. The pact she made with this mountain and moon brought her looking like an ancient moon-egg.
Lidagat (pronounced lee-DÁH-gat) Luna Dougherty Lim, earthside 1/22/2016
The night before I was restless and thirsty for wisdom. I climbed up the mountain to ask for guidance. Mountain Doula had me moving my hips up and down the winter grass and mud overlooking Lincoln Heights. Moonshadow lit my focus on what my body knew how to do in this moment. Mammal, instinct, remembered doing this before.
I didn't want to come down; the walking helped me move energy. I came back down determined to birth without any stress with the Apu midwife (mountain spirit); she let me rest. The first little contractions woke me before a dawn. I sank into Sevin's tub, belly blooming over the water. Serenity, tightness, serenity, ache. Champ went to work at my request and brother made my birthing food of quinoa and carrots.
The plantcestor grain gave me energy to move and David Whitaker came over for DIY PhD class. We moved through our practice: tuning in, listening deep. Spirit told me to walk barefoot on the pebbles in the egg-shaped sandy center of our garden. The pebbles pressed pressure points on my feet, soothed contractions and opened womb which liked the movement of a steady pace.
Tunneling down was Lidagat, but I didn't know it yet. David held me in spirit bath, then Bruje Fuego arrived, holding my hips, up and in as radiant pain left in their strength. Each time breathing, deepening, opening. I was sitting on the compost toilet fully howling to match each feeling. I thought I was pooping, but the body was birthing. The pressure felt the same.
Midwife was called but reassured my brother that it would probably be 12 hours since this was my first. “I don't know, I think you should come now” he said, getting worried at my howls. “Ask her how dilated she is” said Chemin. When I reached down I felt her crown and I moved out of the outhouse. “She's coming!” My brother called champ, who had to leave the woodworking bus and got home just in time. I waddled over to the side of the mountain wall which altar and song have adorned.
They tried to pull me inside, but I was entranced as mountain, knowing, deeply where we wanted to be. “Bring the blankets, bring the towel!” I roared and growled, standing, squatting, toning. I looked up at the late afternoon glow illuminating the green grass and the light, colors, sensation, beauty became orgasm as Lidagat entered this realm.
She unfurled like a fern, tumbling out, pouring fourth into champs arms. “Put her on her chest!” instructed midwife from the phone. In blankets and sunset glow Lidagat, goddess of the sea, moon-angel, big-eyed and curious of this place where she landed. Perfect, hallowed, Luna is her second name. She latched and drank, we cried. Chemin arrived. Blessed world, birthing over us, all, again.
Happy Mother’s Day to Grandmother Moon, Pachamama, of which we are all a part. Happy Day to the birthers and creators, the care-takers and nurturers of seed and soil. Happy Day of returning to the wisdom in the ancients; mountain, Moon Goddess, Yemoya. May feminine moon-womb birthing magic bring us all back into balance, soothe our water and pull forth what’s been gestating.
The sacred ones have returned in us, through us, by us, to us. We are remembering, turning to our planetary guides in time.
The Mountain Moved the Day You were Born, oil on board, 2016, 60” x 48”
