No one had to tell us to be silent.
The room felt sacred. Something important was happening here.
We watched as two doulas began. Gently rocking her head. Wrapping, covering the eyes and forehead. Communicating light through their words but even more through their presence.
When they finished, they faded back and a third doula approached her. I moved to kneel directly across from her and in unison we too picked up both ends of a Mexican scarf. The rebozo. We rocked her shoulders and when it felt right, offered each other our end of the scarf so as to cocoon her snugly. After the wrapping, our hands remained on her shoulders, quietly communicating steady support.
We offered words of love and encouragement.
And then, as quietly as we had come, we stepped back, leaving room for two more doulas to take our places and wrap her abdomen. Two more doulas communicating power and love. Always supported, always in good hands.
I saw the strength in their arms as they rocked. I imagined all the women they had helped over years with rebozos of their own. The rocking which aids in relieving some of the pain in a woman's tempest as she awaits the birth of her baby. The rocking which comforts in that deep, motherly way.
I do not know these women well. Most I was seeing for the first time. Yet, I could feel the love of all of those doulas for those women, for the future women they would serve, for this woman now lying before us in the scarves. I felt my own love for all of them too.
Head, shoulders, abdomen, hips, thighs, calves, feet.
Seven.
Complete.
Then, without a word, I followed as I noticed the other doulas starting to kneel on both sides of her. All of us again put our hands on her, together now, and held space as we literally held her, again with such love. My eyes misted.
Then feet to head, we slowly unwrapped what we had wrapped. Still with intention, respect, love.
How often, in today's busy world, do we slow down like this? Do we come together and give such attention and love to one person? Who of course deserves it! It felt so different, so overdue.
A pull from ancient times and cultures where every woman would be granted this gift, this honor and attention. Just because she exists. A thank you to her, the efforts she has made, the holy work she's been performing.
Closing of the bones.
If you want this sacred experience to be part of your postpartum journey, ask your birth and/or postpartum doula if they will perform the closing of the bones.
@dani.the.doula led us marvelously (and photo credit to her).