BIRTH

Today is my birthday. On this day, exactly 28 years ago, my mother bore the divine stabs of labor pain, as I traveled through her body and into the world outside her womb. Twenty eight years ago today, Mom and I met face to face, in the two physical forms that became us in this shared lifetime of ours. And we both spilled tears from the first rainstorm in time. I know we have shared - and will share - countless other lives. "Someday", we will meet again in form, and we will lock gazes, and our hearts will immediately recognize each other. And joy will pour forth from the clouds and from our eyes. And I will feel again the safety of being curled up innocently inside the dark, quiet solace of her nurturing being. I wonder how many baby humpback whales will be birthed of their mommies' giant bellies today? Their birthing season has just barely begun, and many of these new infants will share the same birthday with me. They - the mother and baby whales - will be Her and Me. Over and over again, like their brilliant jumps and arcs and plunges, the mothers will be Her, and the babies will be Me. I am going to commune with the ocean all day today. I will expect of myself only to keep breathing through the stinging pangs of longing for her. I will reflect all day upon the greatness of her sacrifice; her bleeding so that I could breathe. Her agreement with God to accept, with open arms and heart, the All-Mighty depths and heights of Love and Pain that come with being a parent. I will thank God all day for her selflessness and beauty. I will remember my every blessing. I will think about my mom and dad together in the hospital, holding me and smiling, and shining their love's light upon my life, near the winter solstice in Denver, twenty eight years ago today. I will rejoice when the whales jump and play together. I will rejoice in our ever-closer forthcoming reunion. And I will shed thunderous drops on my pillow tonight, as I ache for our bodies to once again be completely intertwined, so that even in the midst of the heaviest storms of any kind of force, all I will be able to hear is the hush-thump of my mom's heart beating against my temple and into my ear...and blending with my own.