The Birth of a Daughter
Monica King
November 10, 2009
One of the traditions I personally developed over the years, is a tradition around certain birthdays. One which derives from Swedish traditions about birthdays my father taught us.
Birthdays in our family are fun & anticipated. In general, childhood birthdays always involved friends, family, cakes, presents, party favors, & games or some form of entertainment. Once firmly embarked on the adult journey, the notion of the 0 birthdays kicks in. 30, 40, 50 & so on. Until the seventies when 75 becomes significant. A minor miracle to be acknowledged: the diamond jubilee of a personal life, marching into 80, 90, 100...
My grandparents, the ladies, were longest lived in my memory, & in addition to these grand traditions we inherit, I add my own, which is to write about each child on an 0 birthday. So in this tradition I lay pen to paper to celebrate the birth of my first & only daughter, Sydney, named after a magnificent city Down Under, with one of the most graceful of buildings, the Sydney Opera House, adorning the shoreline there. Sydney is a city of Light & beauty, my daughter is properly named.
She is 30 as of this weekend & called me Friday afternoon on her cell phone. "Mom", she said in a glad voice, "Being alive, it is just so awesome, so amazing!"
Ladies & gentlemen, these are celebrations, little epiphanies of the moments of our lives. Here my recombinant DNA experiment, female version, co created with her Dad, has, no prompting, just spontaneously declared how awesome life is. Does it get any better than this?
It was a declaration my Mother's mind will replay at will over & over again, on into the eternities. Because it bespeaks triumph. Liberty. Glorious, spontaneous freely, joyfully declared happiness. Sydney turning 30. Throwing a party. Alone, content, surveying her scene, she gazes out at her chosen Green Mountains & sighs with contentment.
I had to agree, nodding, gazing out my own windows at gentle foot hills preceding White Mountains, wreathing lakes & rivers, with rooms of my own, to contemplate, to savour this moment, this brilliantly calm & sunny autumn day, to affirm with her YES, it is amazing to be alive & to be free.
In new, calm writer's surroundings, carefully chosen, I relived deliciously those days thirty years ago that led to my daughter's birth.
The again joyful anticipation. The light in the air, the rustle & smells of autumn leaves. The brilliant yellows especially of maples outside our little red farm house. The lumbering, bulky feeling of her nestled within as I waddled after her brother, the toddler. Her Dad & I barely bothering to refresh our knowledge of natural or "prepared" childbirth---(all childbirth is natural, even when assisted with modern medical enhancements of course).
One difference between the birth of a boy & the birth of a girl is the sequence of time in our case. One, then the next. One out, one to go. And the one out, very busy, very yang.
Yet Sydney certainly claims the position & title in the royal family lineage & genealogy as first born Daughter, right alongside, with full equality, status, innate talents, & abilities as the Firstborn Son.
Sydney, through her prenatal journey, is also unique in all the world of men & women as she was conceived in New Zealand & journeyed 4 months or more around the greater portion of the globe home to then Concord, where the final months of her gestation consisted of a generally common New England diet.
There are no other daughters that I have met who began womb life with so many miles, & aisles of people surrounding them. With diverse sounding voices, languages, destinations.
Syd signalled she was coming with a large contraction in the wee hours of the night. The baby, researchers tell us in modern obstetrics, secretes the "let's go!" signal to initiate contractions.
One starter contraction & water gushed out onto our bed in our little room. The "goody bag" was packed & ready to go, a neighbor called to stay with her brother. Blissfully asleep & unaware of the advent in progress.
Seven minutes to hospital, blurry motions down to a labor table, where a student nurse was somewhat anxiously attempting to get a history from me.
The contractions came in sets, like mini tsunamis is what it felt like, waves of extremely intense womb contractions, positioning her large head & body for the gate. The gateway out.
Extreme concentration on the task at hand left me, the deliverer, in a rare loss for words. Panting, a little smile at the student nurse, please, once the babe is here I will tell you EVERYTHING, just pant, pant, let me concentrate right now.
In an hour & forty-five minutes, amidst the sensuous realities of hard labor, effort, excitement, grimace, watery, slightly coppery smells of the baby, cord, placenta coming in orderly succession, she was HERE, wonder of wonders.
Wow! Like the large headed being trail-blazing through previously, this female wonder from above displayed a mystifying strength in raising her head & casting huge blue eyes on her mother's sweaty face.
In her gaze I was held, sensing she was conducting a mind & soul sweep of her Mum, in that one steady gaze of recognition.
Then she lay her head on my chest, utterly relaxed. Apparently I was not found wanting.
There are world religions; the Hindu, the Buddhists, who have a theory or two about reincarnation. A belief that our soul: pneuma; spirit; breath of God usually needs more than one lifetime as a human to evolve into perfection.
The Mormons believe souls come from a preexistence. Nobody knows for sure, these are beliefs, but ones that allow for the possibility an Old Soul may be coming into your family.
And this dictates the parent/child relationship as well. The mother/father of the newborn observes more than acts upon this new family member; watching for signs & aptitudes of known ancestors.
All I can say as I gaze this weekend down through 30 years of shared mother/daughter planetary living is, YES, Syd, it is a most awesome & amazing time to be alive.
Rock on daughter.
I celebrate you!
Birthdays in our family are fun & anticipated. In general, childhood birthdays always involved friends, family, cakes, presents, party favors, & games or some form of entertainment. Once firmly embarked on the adult journey, the notion of the 0 birthdays kicks in. 30, 40, 50 & so on. Until the seventies when 75 becomes significant. A minor miracle to be acknowledged: the diamond jubilee of a personal life, marching into 80, 90, 100...
My grandparents, the ladies, were longest lived in my memory, & in addition to these grand traditions we inherit, I add my own, which is to write about each child on an 0 birthday. So in this tradition I lay pen to paper to celebrate the birth of my first & only daughter, Sydney, named after a magnificent city Down Under, with one of the most graceful of buildings, the Sydney Opera House, adorning the shoreline there. Sydney is a city of Light & beauty, my daughter is properly named.
She is 30 as of this weekend & called me Friday afternoon on her cell phone. "Mom", she said in a glad voice, "Being alive, it is just so awesome, so amazing!"
Ladies & gentlemen, these are celebrations, little epiphanies of the moments of our lives. Here my recombinant DNA experiment, female version, co created with her Dad, has, no prompting, just spontaneously declared how awesome life is. Does it get any better than this?
It was a declaration my Mother's mind will replay at will over & over again, on into the eternities. Because it bespeaks triumph. Liberty. Glorious, spontaneous freely, joyfully declared happiness. Sydney turning 30. Throwing a party. Alone, content, surveying her scene, she gazes out at her chosen Green Mountains & sighs with contentment.
I had to agree, nodding, gazing out my own windows at gentle foot hills preceding White Mountains, wreathing lakes & rivers, with rooms of my own, to contemplate, to savour this moment, this brilliantly calm & sunny autumn day, to affirm with her YES, it is amazing to be alive & to be free.
In new, calm writer's surroundings, carefully chosen, I relived deliciously those days thirty years ago that led to my daughter's birth.
The again joyful anticipation. The light in the air, the rustle & smells of autumn leaves. The brilliant yellows especially of maples outside our little red farm house. The lumbering, bulky feeling of her nestled within as I waddled after her brother, the toddler. Her Dad & I barely bothering to refresh our knowledge of natural or "prepared" childbirth---(all childbirth is natural, even when assisted with modern medical enhancements of course).
One difference between the birth of a boy & the birth of a girl is the sequence of time in our case. One, then the next. One out, one to go. And the one out, very busy, very yang.
Yet Sydney certainly claims the position & title in the royal family lineage & genealogy as first born Daughter, right alongside, with full equality, status, innate talents, & abilities as the Firstborn Son.
Sydney, through her prenatal journey, is also unique in all the world of men & women as she was conceived in New Zealand & journeyed 4 months or more around the greater portion of the globe home to then Concord, where the final months of her gestation consisted of a generally common New England diet.
There are no other daughters that I have met who began womb life with so many miles, & aisles of people surrounding them. With diverse sounding voices, languages, destinations.
Syd signalled she was coming with a large contraction in the wee hours of the night. The baby, researchers tell us in modern obstetrics, secretes the "let's go!" signal to initiate contractions.
One starter contraction & water gushed out onto our bed in our little room. The "goody bag" was packed & ready to go, a neighbor called to stay with her brother. Blissfully asleep & unaware of the advent in progress.
Seven minutes to hospital, blurry motions down to a labor table, where a student nurse was somewhat anxiously attempting to get a history from me.
The contractions came in sets, like mini tsunamis is what it felt like, waves of extremely intense womb contractions, positioning her large head & body for the gate. The gateway out.
Extreme concentration on the task at hand left me, the deliverer, in a rare loss for words. Panting, a little smile at the student nurse, please, once the babe is here I will tell you EVERYTHING, just pant, pant, let me concentrate right now.
In an hour & forty-five minutes, amidst the sensuous realities of hard labor, effort, excitement, grimace, watery, slightly coppery smells of the baby, cord, placenta coming in orderly succession, she was HERE, wonder of wonders.
Wow! Like the large headed being trail-blazing through previously, this female wonder from above displayed a mystifying strength in raising her head & casting huge blue eyes on her mother's sweaty face.
In her gaze I was held, sensing she was conducting a mind & soul sweep of her Mum, in that one steady gaze of recognition.
Then she lay her head on my chest, utterly relaxed. Apparently I was not found wanting.
There are world religions; the Hindu, the Buddhists, who have a theory or two about reincarnation. A belief that our soul: pneuma; spirit; breath of God usually needs more than one lifetime as a human to evolve into perfection.
The Mormons believe souls come from a preexistence. Nobody knows for sure, these are beliefs, but ones that allow for the possibility an Old Soul may be coming into your family.
And this dictates the parent/child relationship as well. The mother/father of the newborn observes more than acts upon this new family member; watching for signs & aptitudes of known ancestors.
All I can say as I gaze this weekend down through 30 years of shared mother/daughter planetary living is, YES, Syd, it is a most awesome & amazing time to be alive.
Rock on daughter.
I celebrate you!
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