There was an interconnectedness I felt during every birth.
When labor had reached that fever pitch and I felt that I could no longer go on,
a feeling of wholeness through the pain swept over me.
Being a creator is powerful stuff. Once those babies emerged, the realization of
this power ingrained itself in my being only to be trumped moments later by an
innate knowing that this act of baby making was meager at best in the
functioning of the universe.
Giving birth was a spiritual practice for me, which was one
of the reasons I kept going back for more. The test would read positive and I
would spend the subsequent weeks meditating on the life inside me. Towards the
end of each gestation, I would soak in the tub and talk to the child. Wooing
him or her to perform well during labor. Assurances were uttered and in my
imagination pacts were made to ensure a safe delivery. “Head down, cord between
your legs” was my mantra.
I wonder if this is how God talks to us, through muffled
pleas that could easily go unrecognized. Our lives progress in a womb-like
world of earthly distractions. Our attachments to this realm are as strong and
necessary as a fetus to his umbilical cord. We float from task to task with our
eyes closed and shelter ourselves with perceived self-control and supposed,
“certainties.” Yet, if we are quiet we can hear the heartbeat of God and at
times a hushed suggestion to turn this way or that.
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