Chapter 2 Angeni Luna #3
“Well, I knew it,” Sitka said with a shrug. Angeni wished she would shut up. She was making Angeni doubt herself, and Angeni hated doubting herself.
“Are you a big Abraham Lincoln fan?” Aurora asked. “He was so important to ending slavery, right?”
Aurora looked so serious, so earnest. Angeni was horrified. There was a dreadful silence in the kitchen as they all stood there, waiting to see how Sitka would respond.
Angeni could feel all of them holding their breath before Sitka erupted in laughter.
“Oh my god, Aurora,” she said.
And then they were all laughing, and Angeni felt the tension slowly leave her body. That was all they needed—a laugh—for harmony to be restored.
“I’m sorry—I was just wondering,” Aurora said.
She was so clueless sometimes. Her naivete was both her best and her worst quality.
“Can you imagine if I really was an Abraham Lincoln superfan? Like, I had a fan page for him on Instagram?” Sitka said.
She was still laughing, so they all followed her lead. Freya was enjoying it most of all.
When her laughter died down, Sitka said, “On second thought, just leave the quote. You guys are right—nobody’s gonna notice or care. Or they’ll just think you made a slight tweak to a famous quote.”
“Is it really a famous quote?” Angeni asked.
Sitka just shrugged. “Guess not.”
“Erik, can you keep a close eye on the comments section today?” Angeni asked him.
Erik nodded, a grave expression on his face.
He took his role as online bodyguard, patrolling Angeni’s social media feeds, very seriously.
There had recently been a Reddit thread with strangers taking bets on when he and Angeni would “consciously uncouple” (most guessing before Freya turned two), and Erik could not get it removed, despite repeated engagements with the Reddit help center.
He left comments on the thread, things like I don’t know, guys, they seem solid to me and sounds like most of you just wish you had what they have.
That just generated more wrath, and Angeni told him to just leave it, so Erik backed off.
Eventually, people lost interest, and after a grand total of ninety-one comments, the thread was archived.
It was still there for all the world to peruse, but people couldn’t add new comments.
Erik assured Angeni that he checked every day for a new Reddit thread to patrol, but there was nothing.
“I’m thinking it’s time to release the birth story,” Angeni said, sitting on a stool across from Sitka at the island.
She had been waiting for the perfect time to share The Birth Story.
Her community was clamoring for it, and she had repeatedly told them that she would share it if and when it felt right in her heart.
It was so precious, she’d said. She wanted to possess it for herself and her loved ones, she’d said.
Now, though, with engagement on her Mother Nurture posts slightly down—Erik checked the metrics weekly—it felt like the right time.
“I love this idea,” Erik said, as if it was his first time hearing it, though they had just discussed it the night before.
“The world needs to see this. It’s so beautiful,” Aurora said, her eyes welling up.
Aurora had been there, at Freya’s birth.
Angeni labored for hours in a giant birthing tub, with Aurora and Erik taking turns massaging her lower back and shoulders while whispering affirmations.
Erik filmed the whole thing, which Jer, their resident video production expert, had spent weeks editing.
What nobody but their community knew was that Angeni had actually delivered Freya at the hospital after the midwife, an elderly woman named Pearl who Angeni trusted implicitly, was concerned about the baby’s heart rate dropping.
This would create issues with the Birth Story video, of course, as Angeni had no plans of telling her followers that she’d abandoned her home birth.
She instructed Jer to show the laboring process, and then they would cut to Freya in her arms later, footage they got once Angeni and Freya came home from the hospital.
If people complained about not seeing the actual delivery, Angeni had a planned response: Some moments of this life are sacred, meant to be held close to the hearts of those present. This was one of those moments.
“Are you thinking a written post, or are there photos or a video or what?” Sitka asked.
Angeni appreciated Sitka’s input. She was a decade younger than Angeni, hipper and more savvy about social media.
This didn’t bother Angeni. She didn’t aspire to be savvy with a technology made to disconnect people from the natural world.
For her, social media was a necessary evil, something to help spread the messages she was born to spread—her Human Design profile indicated that this was her calling, to guide people toward their inner truths and help them find meaning and healing.
“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. They had wanted 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 birth is for 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.”