Talking Story

One of the things I miss most about my Grandmother Kent is her voice. I would do anything to have one more conversation with her. A few months before she passed away, Grandma sent me a voice message through What’s App. I was in living in India at the time and she was in her home in Florida. The message was something about how I could always call whenever I needed her. She was there for me, and she loved me. I saved this message after she died. A small keepsake, a gem of sorts. The sound of her voice opens memories that bring me right back into her arms.

I wake up early this morning at my mom’s house in Montezuma, Costa Rica, and think about my grandmother. It’s 5:30 a.m. on December 26th of 2022. Light streams through the mist that forms at dawn. I feel the pressing weight of change upon my chest. I know in just a few weeks I’ll begin a long journey in search of women’s voices. I want to hear the stories of how women birth their children, of how a mother is born at birth, and of who she becomes.

I’ve thought a lot about the day I was born. Through story I have learned about what the experience of giving birth was like for my mom. It’s been eye-opening. And to be honest…a fire has ignited inside me. A desire to understand. What is giving birth and being born all about? How does birth imprint itself on each of our lives? And what happens there and then, when we come into the world from our mother’s womb? It’s not just that I want to know, it’s that I have this knowing inside me that lingers.

Recently I realized I never had the chance to ask Grandma about her birth stories. I never thought to ask her when she was alive. For this, I must turn to my mom now. It’s around 6:30 in the morning by the time I get out of bed and walk downstairs. The dogs run over to greet me as they always do when a new day begins. My grandmother must have visited my dreams last night because one of the first things I do today is ask my mom about the day she was born. Do you know your birth story, Mom? What was Grandma’s experience the day she gave birth to you?

My mom tells me about the time she spent with Grandma during those last days. When Grandma became ill with Lung cancer, Mom went to visit her in Florida several times in the months before she died. She was able to ask Grandma many questions about her life, things she never had the opportunity to ask before, or things that perhaps didn’t seem important until then. Death has a way of reminding us of what really matters in life.

Mom says that on one of those days she spent with Grandma, she asked about her births. I listen to my mom intently as she speaks. How I wish I could have been there to hear my grandmother’s voice. “What was it like for her?” I ask. “What do you remember?” I seek the memories of my grandmother and I am not sure whether I will ever know them. Mom shares the bits of memory she can recall. Snippets of my grandmother’s experiences of giving birth. I learn fractions of the day my mom came into this world. If I could have one more conversation with Grandma, I would ask her this:

Grandma, what was it like when you gave birth to my mother?

There’s an old Hawai’ian saying that comes to mind when I think about the ways I want to learn from mothers. “Let’s talk story,” it goes. Talking story is about slowing down and being real with one another. It’s about a rawness that comes when exchanging our ideas, experiences, and opinions with each other. A story is a way of keeping the memory of our people alive. It is an evolving and collective voice that is passed from generation to generation. And the story is always changing; it’s in the nature of storytelling. Birth stories are important because they honor the day we are born. They teach us about what it takes to bring a new being to this planet. Somewhere in the story of birth, I glimpse the fine line between life and death. Birth brings us to our most present and vulnerable reality.

In January, I will begin my travels to different parts of the world in search of the oral traditions of birth. My first stop will be in the mountains of Ecuador. I want to learn about what it is to give birth through mothers’ voices. This journey started long ago for me on the day I was born. My birth story is one that has been hard for my mother to speak out loud. Yet with time, and courage, she has shared with me her experience of giving birth and I begin to understand how I came into this world. The voices of my ancestors are with me even when I think they are lost. I know this because when Mom is talking story, I can hear my grandmother. I open up my memories, our memories. When it is my time to give birth, I do not want to be alone. I hope that the women who share their stories will accompany me.