“We have the video, edited down to a couple minutes, so I was thinking of posting that with accompanying words,” she said.
“You had her at home, right?” Sitka said.
Angeni hated to lie, and Erik knew this about her. She was grateful when he jumped in:
“She was in this huge tub. It was so special,” he said.
Which was true.
“We wanted a water birth for our water-sign baby,” Aurora added, for good measure.
This was also true. Theyhadwanted that. Angeni had done so much inner work in order to accept that the birth had not gone exactly to plan.
“Maybe just mention in the post that home birth isn’t right for everyone,” Sitka said. “You know, to promote women having options and—”
“Home birthisfor everyone, though,” Angeni said. “It’s the medical establishment that says otherwise. It makes women question their abilities and lose faith in their bodies. This is one of the things I want to focus on with Mother Nurture.”
Her own birth experience hadn’t changed her fervor. Yes, she’d needed to go to the hospital, as a last resort. But for most women, the hospital was their first and only consideration. That was what had to change. Modern medicine should be the exception, not the rule. If she shared that she’d delivered in the hospital, people would see her as the rule, not the exception. She shuddered at how much harm that could do.
Angeni watched Sitka’s jaw muscles tighten and clench, as if she was having to physically restrain herself from saying something. She didn’t agree, clearly, but what right did she have to such a passionate opinion?
“Maybe just a disclaimer to cover yourself in case of liability, then,” she said finally, with a tight smile.
“That’s not a bad idea,” Erik said.
He was so agreeable, always—a blessing and a curse.
“Birth doesn’t need a disclaimer,” Angeni said, her eyes locked on Sitka’s.
Sitka stood from her seat, holding Freya against her chest.
“Don’t listen to me,” she said with a smile that Angeni couldn’t read. “I’ve never had a kid.”
Freya squealed, and Sitka kissed her cheek.
“I’m going to take her for a little nature walk,” Sitka said.
Angeni nodded her consent and told Sitka she’d have buckwheat pancakes ready when they returned—“for the adults, I mean.” They were just starting Freya on solids, but Angeni was determined to stay away from sugary offerings that would ingrain a preference for sweet foods for decades to come. Salmon roe, lamb meat stock, bone broth—these would be her daughter’s first experiences with nourishment beyond her mother’s breasts.
After Sitka and Freya had left, Aurora said, “Sitka seems off today.”
“I can’t imagine she got much sleep,” Erik said.
“Let’s not talk about her when she’s not here,” Angeni said.
It was one of their community rules, in place to keep the harmony and encourage healthy communication. It made Angeni feel good to remind them of this. This was what the haters didn’t understand—she always had the purest intentions.
“Sorry,” Aurora said. “I didn’t mean it in a gossipy way. I just ... I hope she’s okay. Sleep deprivation is, like, a torture device in the military.”
“She’s not sleep deprived,” Angeni said. “She’s fine.”
She could hear the edge in her voice despite her best attempts to curb it. Erik came up behind her, pressed his thumbs into the knotted muscles of her shoulders.
“You’re my queen,” he told her.
She closed her eyes, let herself luxuriate in his devotion, and said, “I know.”
Chapter 3
