THE BIRTH

By Sebnam A S

I looked at my daughter and saw pure joy in her eyes. In that moment, months of anticipation, sleepless nights and bone shattering pain melted into the depths of my heart filling its chambers with a warmth I had never felt before in my life. I knew she would be one of a kind, divinely moulded into a perfect amalgam of a free-spirited gentle soul and a rebellious warrior. Because that's who she was; a brave warrior whose war cry echoed through the walls of my womb and travelled up my blood vessels but with the sweetness of a lullaby that would rock my anxious soul to ease.

Her journey towards birth and life was not easy. Our journey was not easy. Countless hours spent in hospital rooms and hallways, both pain and joy intertwined into our everyday existence. Each time a new diagnosis came to light, a new intervention prescribed, her resolve to fight for her survival grew even stronger. Her sheer resilience to make her way and one day see the world in all its myriad of colours held us together through many a dark tiring night. To be left alone in moments of pain and despair is heart wrenching but to still feel lonely amidst the comfort of care and attention is devastating. In those grey hopeless times, she became this invisible strength that kept me moving forward whenever I felt drained of all the reserves of my energy and will power.

I had always felt intuitively, she would be one with nature. The way she rolled in my tummy when my feet touched the grass or how she would rejoice when we smelled wild roses and jasmines or how she would tap her feet rhythmically to the sound of rain drops falling on the window panes. She tossed around with the whistling wind and danced to thunderstorms. She liked the sun but loved the moon. She revered the earth but adored the sky. She was already a lover in the world of books and words. We enjoyed novels of mystery and drama and left in awe of memoirs and biographies. We wrote poems of love and melancholy and filled the pages of our journals with tales of our blissful days and anxious nights.

As days passed into weeks and weeks into months, the light of joy slowly faded into the shadows of dread. I was gripped by terrorizing fear. Fear of losing her, losing my miracle. The test reports showed no mercy. We were running out of time. The pain searing through every fibre of my being, I collapsed into a deep well of agony and heartache. She was suffocating. But she fought valiantly like a soldier wielding her weapon for the final time before her fate would be decided in the battlefield. I had to save her. As they wheeled me into the surgical room, I felt the world around me fall silent like in reverence to the witnessing of a monumental event. Or was it my own inner chaos settling into ease knowing she can finally breathe free and feel alive in this big wide world she would often dream of. As they hooked me onto tubes and machines, I whispered a silent prayer of gratitude to the Creator of the universe for having chosen me as the sacred vessel to carry this precious soul that I knew without a doubt would one day help change this world for the better. The drugs hit slowly and then instantly and my vision blurred into the face of my doctor who kept comforting me in her soft reassuring voice. As my awareness fell into the oblivion, I heard a faint beeping from a distant monitor, the sweet lullaby that never failed to put my soul at ease.

I woke up to a gentle tap on my shoulder. My doctor waited patiently as I slowly regained my senses. A warm smile broke across her face as I heaved a sigh of relief. We won the battle. But I had to wait, rest and gather my strength before I could see her, feel her and hold her in my arms for the very first time and then forever. My body had taken a huge toll to keep us both alive and I realised it would be a long, hard walk towards home and healing. After spending an impatient, restless night in the ICU, I was finally ready to meet her. As I entered the room, a sea of emotions washed over me. One of worry, excitement, fear and joy. But mostly love. An undying, irresistible river of love that gushed from the deepest trenches of my heart and flooded every cell in my body.

There she was, beautiful and divine, her delicate face radiating an unexplainable spark of life. I stood in awe and wonder as my fingers gently caressed her hazel brown skin. Her lips a light hue of crimson red, her hair lay in soft curls, her round nose just perfect. But it was her almond shaped eyes, deep, soulful, inquisitive as though they hold the wisdom of legacies of the old and dreams for the future. In them I realised a reflection of my own self. She is me. I am the daughter I carried in the womb of my heart. In time, it would be me looking back to see a proud mother watching me grow. I could see her even more clearly now, as the new birth of awareness shined brightly over the mirror of our eyes. The cancers of life had threatened and dimmed the light of her existence from the consciousness of my mind, lost and forgotten. Nevertheless, she was always alive within me waiting to be found and reborn.

And here we were, a bit weary, a bit worn down but wide awake and free to seek new horizons and see the world in its myriad of colours as we so often dreamt of. And the adventures were just about to begin!

By Sebnam A S