During a writing session today we were asked to reflect upon our breathing. Often we are shallow breathers, neglecting to breath deeply. Bent over our desks for long periods of time intent on our working, studying, or writing often cause us to neglect this most essential component of our existence.
Without oxygen we cease to exist.
I was drawn to ponder my first breath when I came into existence decades ago. This exercise of reflecting upon my first breath offers so much to consider about the infant and parent bonding relationship.
It goes much further than this, and of course I can’t help but ponder the creation of woman from a male’s side and what it might mean theologically, with the Creator of the Universe rejoicing over the birth of the first woman. Lots to ponder there, right!
I’m grateful to have given birth during the time when advancements of obstetrics and maternal medicine were reassessing the birthing procedures for C-sections. Yes, there was plenty of reluctance at that time, but our medical team allowed my husband to join me in the operating room during the cesarean births of our four children.
Although my body was sedated, my mind was alert. We were both fully awake and present, the first to witness their entrance into this beautiful universe, present to hear their first cries, and present with open arms to hold them close to our skin!
So, a bit timidly, I share with you my short reflection.
Unnaturally Born: My First Breath
I enter the universe not through the vagina, but via a wound.
The deft stroke of a surgeon’s blade perforates my mother’s womb.
Were his hands gentle when lifting my body from its dark space into the cold sterile operating room?
I’m given a slap upon my naked buttocks, unaware life would serve up many more.
Suspended above my mother’s silent body I inhale my first breath, offering that precious first cry – proof of life for all to behold.
Alas, no parent is present to rejoice at my birth.
Strangers instead surround a sedated womb witnesses to the miracle of a babe unnaturally born.