Being Born

For the cats and the dogs, the physicists and mystics, the walkers and the runners, the doers and the be’ers

Once upon a time, I was standing in the middle of Epcot with my son’s hand in mine, my soul completely crushed as I witnessed and felt all the crying children strapped into strollers looking at IPADs while their parents got drunk in Germany. Please don’t mistake the visual or my tone as a distaste for day drinking. I support choices that allow you an opportunity to enjoy life, however, my heart threw a tantrum in the magical world of Disney. Kids disconnected in a place supposedly for them because we haven’t quite mastered it yet. Perhaps a result of all the pleasure we’ve been sold, sprinkled with a lack of support and a whole bunch of misinformation as the cherry on top…. you have the makings of the imperfect parent club….a place we can all belong.

Oh, it is those moments of deep knowing that are so hard to turn back from.

Valentine’s Day. I remember because we looked up and the word LOVE was being written in smoke. He quietly asked me “Was the time you were held up at gunpoint the scariest moment of your life?” I was taken aback by this random loaded question, as he often does, and thought seriously about it before answering. I knew I wasn’t a scared 13 year old girl hanging out on the steps of that church on a Friday night. I was proudly sporting my Notre Dame Starter jacket. I had wanted and earned it because I had been led to believe it would allow me to be a part of the times I was living in. I was pissed and totally resisted turning it over, by firmly saying NO. I did not really think those young boys trying to make a dollar would shoot me. My bestie of the time, made me reconsider my stance. And in the spirit of honesty, I gave it up because I didn’t want to disappoint her. I really wasn’t afraid. At this point I had become so desensitized because I had survived so many things.

This was a scary story for my son to pick up in passing, especially as he was trying to make sense of his own utopian world collapsing in the Spring of 2020.

And so, what came to mind during my birthday week of 2022, “Operation Salvage Childhood”…. was the second he was born, crying and afraid…..my baby… rushed over to a bright light, in spite of my very clear birth directive, so that he could be “checked”. My meekest, exhausted and most defeated voice, said “Mama is here”. In an INSTANT he stopped, silently sensing his way towards me as I insisted he be placed on my breasts, close to my beating heart, right where he belonged. That birth memory was so impactful because it highlighted our connection and also the distress of unconscious, abrupt and in our case, very unnecessary separation, for however long it was. I have been offered kind words to “reassure” me which also at the same time deny what I felt, I do know that I can’t go back. I know that I have a beautiful healthy child and grateful for the gift that he is…. a larger than life, soul full human being. I am simply sharing this to acknowledge how sensitive we are, knowing it is by design to ensure that we may thrive.

We have research, upon research, so much damn research, about the nervous system, neural pathways, the human spirit, consciousness and optimal conditions to best support mothers and children. An era where restructuring and rebuilding systems has become important, trendy, marketable and necessary, thank Goddess. A time of deep knowing. A time of AWAKENING. And so I was prompted to answer him with, “I think the scariest moment in my life was probably the first 5 days when I lived in a hospital bassinet waiting to go home with someone.”

During this same trip we met my biological cousin, my mother’s sisters daughter, also given up for adoption. It was unsettling and at the same time affirming to feel how deeply the wounds of our ancestors had penetrated our very essence. Both of us growing up in completely different worlds. Making some sense of what we carry in our DNA, a remembrance that all we feel in this lifetime is not always our own, but things that have been passed down while growing in the womb of our mother.

This same week, Mary J. Blige, an icon from my youth, showed up at the Super Bowl, bright as can be, in her very Mary essence, recommitting “No More Drama” to the soundtrack of my life.

And so…..

I know how very strong we are. I know how very strong we are. I know how very strong we are. I know how very soft we are. I know how very soft we are. I know how very soft we are.

Since the beginning, it is equal parts strength and sensitivity that welcome something or someone new to be born.

Apurate! Let’s Go.

Thank you, my son, for shining bright enough for me to see you, believe you, hear you, feel you, know you and love you.