My Birth Story
Listen here:
My mother tells the story of my birth with a mix of sadness and joy. Two months premature, my neck tangled with my umbilical cord, and delivered by cesarean birth, I spent the first month of my life in an incubator. At that time, the medical practice was to prohibit the family from holding premature babies and so any human touch was limited to that of clinical interventions by nurses and doctors taking my weight, changing tubes and bandages, and un-wedging me from between the mattress and incubator wall. With no time in the warmth of my parents’ arms to build human bonds in those first weeks and even months as a baby at home, I have often pondered what impact my birth story has had in shaping my life.
As an adult, reflecting on my birth story, I recall that some of my earliest and most enduring memories are of being outside with my eyes fixed on the horizon, or in the tangled web of tree limbs, or submerged in waters of oceans, streams, and rainy days. These were the places where I felt God’s love and nurtured at the breast. Through these encounters with creation, from a very young age, I was awakening to God’s love and presence communicated by nature.
How does God communicate with you? Reflect and listen to what emerges.
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