The topics of pregnancy and birth have inspired many writers, poets, and philosophers over the ages. Here you will find a variety of written pieces that may inspire your birthing process.

Miranda Shaw, PhD.
excerpt from "Blessed are the Birth Givers: Buddhist Views on Birth and Rebirth"
Queen Maya sought out a sacred grove where all the women of her lineage gave birth under the watchful care of the grove goddess. The goddess hung jewels and flower garlands from the trees and made lotuses bloom in all the ponds. She summonded the females of all species to bring offerings to the foot of the tree where Buddha would be born. Queen Maya batheed in a lotus pond and then grasped the branch of a fig tree which served as her midwife for this auspicious birth.

Frederick LeBoyer, M.D. excerpt from Inner Beauty Inner Light There is nothing to do. Just as in lovemaking. Open and let go. Surrender. Allow it to happen. Being, merely, a witness. To your utter amazement you watch yourself and the baby being carried, as it were, by an uninterrupted, continuous, flowing, beautifully rhythmic process, Yes: nothing to do. Just be. And flow with the process. The inner power And the baby have done it all for you.

Daphne and Charles Maurer
excerpt from The World of the the Newborn
His world smells to him much as our world smells to us, but he does not perceive odors as coming through his nose alone. He hears odors, and sees odors, and feels them too. His world is a melee of pungent aromas-and pungent sounds, and bitter-smelling sounds, and sweet-smelling sights, and sour-smelling pressures against the skin. If we could visit the newborn's world, we would think ourselves inside a hallucinogenic perfumery.

All night she sat under the Life Tree. I stayed with her, and at times I asked if she needed anything or if there was something I could do. Then I saw that I was only interrupting her concentration. She had put herself into a trance, was quite warm, and made no sign of feeling the pains.

Just as the sky was becoming gray, she opened her eyes, got up, and went into the la-ka. Within a few minutes all the people of the village were there, though no one had been sent to get them. I helped her to lower herself to the bed of clean grass that had been made beside the fire, and I held her in my arms as she lay back against me, her knees bent and her feet flat on the ground. She seemed to be looking at the fire from between her knees, over her great belly. I saw the belly suddenly flatten somewhat and heard the rush of water. Then I watched it heave in great, steady, constant contractions, like the heaving of earth in an earthquake. I wished with all my might to take some of the pain from her. I looked at her face, expecting to see it contorted with the effort, but her face was still, serene, gleaming in the glow of the fire on which her narrowed eyes fixed in deep concentration.

I heard the baby cry. Augustine's belly heaved again. Then her eyes blinked; she looked down to the pool between her legs, picked up the baby and lay it across her belly. She winced slightly as the afterbirth was expelled, then looked up at me and smiled. Her eyes closed and she fell into a deep sleep, there in my arms.

I cannot describe the feeling I had during those few minutes when she slept in my arms with the slimy little baby lying across her. Sweat and tears ran down my face as I held her and the people came to clean up, to wash the baby and to prepare a clean place for us to rest beside the fire.