A Birth Day
Last Wednesday was my little boy’s eighth birthday. I find this fact amazing. How can eight years have flown by so quickly? Yet it also seems like a very long time since that Sunday morning at 2:00 AM as I drove his mother along the expressway toward the birthing center, while the blazing trails of meteors randomly streaked across the silent sky.
It was an oppressively hot day that August in 2002. I was glad we were inside the climate-controlled coolness of the hospital, especially when we went outside briefly into a little courtyard so Stephanie could walk a bit, with some assistance, to help her labor along. About thirteen hours after we arrived at the birthing center, after whirlpool baths and yelling and much deep breathing, Arthur finally shot into this world like a cannon ball, all tiny and purple, to BLOW MY MIND! I had never experienced anything like his birth! It was like he emerged from another dimension, from a place too impossibly small to have held that screaming pink ball of flesh and blood. And somehow I was a part of him! And Stephanie was a part of him. And yet he was also this separate little warm being with arms and legs and fingers and hair and eyes. A human entity sprung out of the unfathomable void of the universe, where months earlier there had been nothing!
If that don’t blow your mind, I don’t know what would!
Here’s a poem I wrote on the second day of Arthur’s life:
Oh miracle of miracles!
I’m dancing with my newborn son,
his tiny heart merged with mine
his life and mine the very same!
Tears of blissful joy arise and flow with the motion of our dance,
a dance of ancient rhythms, primal light.
His mother’s milk flows warm and sleepy
like the sunlight outside his birthing place.
His dark eyes open wide, his mouth a smiling flower.
His mother’s voice that invoked the fire of earth’s core
sings now like the silken rain’s caress.
New little angel, pink potato child,
You are the dream made flesh!
Little Buddha boy whose eyes gaze inward with bright innocence,
You are a virgin universe waiting to unfold.