When every important event in one’s life, personally and professionally, happens in a carefully coordinated set of intentionally elected moments, attempting to give birth is a special form of kryptonite.

Especially *natural* birth, which had been the plan since around 7-months, when we shifted from a traditional (but exceptional!) OBGYN in a birthing center, to an inflatable tub in the center of the bedroom, complete with midwife, backup midwife, and doula.

“Your body is built for this!”

All 9 candles from the Luna in Cancer and Exalted Luna workings were placed upon the birthing Altar, with fresh flowers and the star projector. The tarp, blankets, oxytocin playlist, and birthing balls were all at the ready, as were the necessary Talismans + Materia.

But, as the cards had foretold… the due date passed, with no signs of progress.

To make matters complicated, after occupying the perfect position for months, Lucian had flipped “sunny side up”, and no amount of sleeping on the left, inversions, or asymmetrical stair climbing seemed to make a difference.

Night after night, week after week, we walked the driveway circling the house, talking about when he would come. Speculating as to what he might be waiting for.

Then, at a rather peculiar [out of] place, a frog crossed our path.

Note was taken. The Froggy subset employed.

That night, a Dream was had. An Ancestor was interfering.

Divination indicated Austin was the one to do the ritual work of intercession, and before he had finished, the first real sign of impending labor had occurred.

We couldn’t help but laugh when our midwife mentioned the term for cephalic, occiput posterior presentation (the position Lucian was still in) was referred to as “star gazing” in her native tongue; this as between contractions Austin and the doula supported me in the strangest of positions, still trying to remedy the situation.

Fast forward a literal 50 hours (two days and two nights!) of back labor, an IV and two catheters later… when I was informed that we would have to transfer to the hospital.

The photo above makes this point in the timeline look so tranquil [3x laugh emoji!]
There are no pictures from this late stage…

I begged and pleaded, to please keep going. We are SO CLOSE!

“I can give you 15 more minutes, then we have to go…”

I crab walked the stairs, naked and sweating, gutturally pushing with every Gods-loving ounce between them.

“Let’s get this for the carpet…”

“FUCK THE CARPET”

I could FEEL HIM with my fingertips!

“I’m at the threshold of my licensure…”

The maximum amount of time to push in a home birth scenario had been reached, legally speaking.

“These guidelines exist for a reason… there really could be something wrong… we do have to go…”

What followed was the worst car ride of both our lives, down the half mile bumpy-ass gravel driveway to the hospital that was closest, but that we had never set foot in before.

Our midwife, sitting beside me in the back seat of her car — presumably in case I gave birth in it! — as Austin drove, warned me that she had called ahead, and that the doctor on call was… not her favorite.

I clutched the Divine Coterie Talisman, which had been around my neck for the duration, and prayed for the help of the Divine Physicians.

The adrenaline of transfer had kicked the contractions into high gear. The spell of trance that had been hard-cultivated over the last two days was broken, and there was no longer any mental shield for the unmedicated pain happening with every seemingly unending contraction.

The look on the receptionists faces as I was wheeled into the lobby, screaming like some cliché sitcom, was a thing to behold, even from my sorry perspective.

The unfavorite doctor approached.

“I see you were previously in the care of Dr. Original OBGYN, would you like me to call her in?”

“OH GOD YES PLEASE RIGHT NOW”

The kindest anesthesiologist began installing the epidural as we waited for Dr. Savior’s arrival.

Who was SO kind and SO sweet, and not gloaty at all about my ricocheting back into the traditional medical system after a botched attempt at home birth.

And amazingly, after a brief palpating, she exclaimed happily — Lucian had flipped!

“It must have happened during transport…”

Given this, we engaged in another hour and a half of coached pushing.

“He’s been in there a long time….”
“His heart rate is slowing…”
“Shoulder dystocia…”
“Not worth the risk…”

I took off my Asclepius IV Talisman pre-op, being comforted and reassured by the incredible birthing team that had assembled — from home to hospital, past and now present — that our own Divine Coterie was manifesting in real-time to make this happen. To deliver our baby boy — who through all of this had not shown any signs of distress [until now] — at long last, safely into this World.

I cried, mourning the fact that despite our every preparation, our every attempt and commitment to bring our child into a peaceful, loving environment without unnecessary interventions, had gone so very sideways.

They wheeled me into the operating room.

“Where’s Austin?”
“He’ll be in shortly…”

Minutes later, to the serendipitous recording of a nurse exclaiming “That is a VERY SIZABLE CHILD!”, Lucian had joined us on the Outer.

They cleared the meconium from his lungs and tummy, dada by his side, before laying him awkwardly across my neck; tears of relief rolling from my face onto his own. The closest thing we’d have to a golden hour.

“This is how women and babies died in childbirth…”

The next two days were spent grateful of course, that we both lived and breathed, but nonetheless fending off hospital staff in an attempt to claw back at the peaceful and undisturbed postpartum experience we had been longing for. We left abruptly following an altercation with the worst kind of patriarchal, know-it-all physician, which in and of itself was a blessing. Home was infinitely better.

The weeks following were a whirlwind I barely remember.

Breast feeding hadn’t began well, with all my body had to recover from. My appetite was nonexistent. I was traumatized, sleep deprived, and depressed. Following what donor milk was available, we had resorted to supplementing with formula.

How is this happening…

I texted our general manager, Amber, asking if she could please pull a sample of the Postpartum Tincture that had consecrated during the Exalted Luna working, which had been held back from initial release with the intent of beta testing.

Why I hadn’t thought of it sooner, or prepared it so much in advance?… I have no idea — but I am, in a way, grateful to have gone through the same set of experiences countless other mothers go through, to truly and deeply empathize.

And to know for a fact how much of a difference that Tincture actually made.

How over the course of a few days, it entirely revived my appetite, did wonders for stabilizing my mind and emotional state, and encouraged the spice milk to flow.

How it invited the sweetest bonding, and most restorative sleep.

That isn’t to say it fixed everything instantly — it did take some time, but the hole I had started from began, little by little, dose by dose, to become filled in, lifting Lucian and I first to ground level, and finally, to where we are today:

Exclusively breastfeeding, thriving (when we’re not sleeping!), and *so, so* happy.

After taking the primary baby reigns so Austin could focus on May’s heinous workload, this (June 2024) has been my month to learn how to get back to my own side of these wondrous works, and learn how to juggle day-to-day life in the throes of matrescence.

It is in this spirit that I present, the Postpartum Release — a softball on my end given that it rides the wavy coat-tails of the series debuted most recently, yet a world away… before Lucian joined the party < 3

Now, if it would please the good reader, there are a few things I would like to mention about the birth that didn’t have a good place in the telling of its story:

The first is that we knew going in it would likely to be rough, based on both malefics transiting my Moon around that time. In addition, the women in my family have all ended up with emergency c-sections in recent generations.

I chose to attempt a home birth because I do believe that the birthing process is overly medicalized (and pathologized) in the modern world, and especially in the United States. The vast majority of healthy people with normal pregnancies are able to give birth perfectly fine in a home setting, and when they can’t (as in my case), they transfer. Me and my hooked Scorpio rising tailbone would not take it back!

The natural, initiatory, and gnostic aspects of birth are worth exploring and honoring, as timeless rights of passage. I am also — needless to say — grateful for modern, life-saving interventions, and have a tremendous appreciation that both exist, and pray these paths can co-exist more harmoniously in the future. It is not either / or, it is both in their rightful place.

Magically and astrologically speaking:

We had a consultation with Freedom Cole early on, who confirmed extra medical supervision would be needed, and even mentioned ancestral difficulties.

The frog omen is super interesting in light of the need to transfer from the lily pad of the house, to the lily pad of the hospital, and him flipping during that transit.

An early Tarot reading on our end indicated the decan of Lucian’s Sun… we just couldn’t believe he would go that long overdue!

An all-too-real reminder that, in the end, regardless of how well prepared or magically supported anyone is, life and destiny will always take their own course.

Something as important as a natal chart, which contains the seeds of fate for any given life, will not be altered beyond a certain point based upon human intervention. Lives begin exactly how and when they are supposed to. All we can do is our best with what we have at each fork in the road that presents itself!

Thank you to our closer and wider communities
for Lucian’s warm welcome into this world!

May this subset of Exalted Lunar offerings support,
nurture, and stabilize all of the families who partake <3