i've been thinking

and so has he.

But while he's probably daydreaming about why his belly-button exists I've been thinking about all the comments on my birth post.

Thank you so much beautiful mothers. For sharing your birth experiences in this space. I expected more criticism but I was so utterly overwhelmed by the passion in your voices. How wonderful it is that you all want to share.

The language of birth is so powerful. I'll note here that becka a doula from Vancouver, Canada suggests we refer to cesareans as cesarean births. Using the phrase c-section makes it entirely medical and we should acknowledge that it is still a birth expereince for the mother and her child.

While the language of birthing remains fearful in many circles it is inspiring to know that there are women all over the world willing to share their sacred stories. However, I do believe that one of the major obstacles in changing this society of fear is silence.

I remember when Ché was only a few weeks old and I was in a room of new mothers at a local child health clinic. I was the only one who had a positive birth experience. And I didn't share my story because I didn't want to offend anyone. Because I didn't want the mothers who had a cesarean birth to feel like they had failed. And I didn't want the mothers who had agonising and fear-driven vaginal births to look at me like I was loopy. I was silenced because I didn't want to come across as the hippy-yoga-mum who loved her birth. Who felt like she could stand on the tallest mountain and confess her pride to everyone below.

Yes I roared throughout my labour. I opened my lungs, my mouth, my heart, my pelvis and my vagina and I didn't do it quietly. But it took me months after Ché's arrival to feel it was ok to share my story with women who didn't have the same experience. When I started teaching again I really felt that I was in the perfect position to change perceptions of birth. And that was when I really opened up and shared every moment of my journey.

It wasn't long after that I connected with pregnant women on an entirely different level. Where I could gently guide them through their pregnancy and encourage them to wrap their arms tight around labour - to embrace that wonderful rhythm and push their baby out into this world. And it was then that I received phone calls and emails describing 'the best expereinces of their lives'. A few of my students refused cesareans they were so determined. One student was crying to me on the phone because after 2 hours of pushing she was wheeled down to theatre to prep her for an emergency cesear. Despite the 13 people in the room and the constant advice of 'don't push' from the medical team she held tight to her midwifes hand and pushed her beautiful 9.5pound baby into this world. Through tears she told me that she was just so proud of herself. Later she told be that the obstetrician had never seen anything like it before - the sheer determination and power of a woman in control of her birth experience.

When I heard her story I cried too.

I will never again be silenced about my birth experience. Nor will I be ashamed about my opinion and beliefs.

When I took Ché to his last check-up at the child health clinic - the same place that I sat in silence 17 months ago, the early childhood nurse said to me: "I have to tell you Jodi. I have never in all my career seen so many happy mothers and so many calm and settled babies." At that point I wasn't really sure what she was referring to.

"...they all went to your yoga classes in their pregnancy. You're doing a great job."

I blushed. But it was then that I knew that all those positive stories were slowly but surely sinking in. Women were beginning to share, listen and experience for themselves. Just as it should be.