Watching My Baby Have Her Baby

I recently witnessed something incredibly profound -- the birth of a child. Okay, I know -- women have been having babies...well, since "Hector was a pup," as my dad would say. I myself have had four of them. What made this birth so intensely powerful, however, was a) it took place at home, and b) the woman giving birth was my daughter.

It was, to say the very least, an emotionally powerful experience. I was the designated photographer, and was therefore granted entrance to the inner sanctum - the bedroom -- where three midwives and my son-in-law nurtured, coached, and supported my daughter through eleven hours of difficult, yes, let's be honest -- painful labor. My husband and I took deep silent breaths, eyeing each other frantically during each contraction. Note: We had not been given a vote in the decision to have a home-birth, (rightly so, of course), and were admittedly trepidatious about it. My husband had programmed the local ambulance service into his speed dial just in case. Nevertheless, the midwives attending our daughter were top notch, extremely professional, and provided calm in the eye of the storm. And boy-oh-boy, that's where we were...at least emotionally. Memories of my own birthing experiences flooded my mind, but nothing could have prepared me for this. Watching my baby have her baby was like being a sous chef for GOD -- there was nothing I could do but observe in humility and awe.

Within moments of my granddaughter's emergence into the world, she was placed gently in my daughter's arms, where joy and happiness eclipsed tears and pain. It was a tough birth, but here she was at last, in the world and breathing. I stood out of the way, recording the scene, overwhelmed with pride at the astonishing tableau before me. My daughter suddenly looked up, and sought me out. Her eyes met mine, and she uttered that incredible word. "Mom!" I flew to her side and cuddled her lovely face in my hands. My baby, holding her baby. Thirty years of mother-daughter electricity passed between us at that moment. The circle of life had made another turn.

Birth. We take the whole thing for granted -- the result of heavy petting. But it is difficult, and it can be complicated... sometimes tragically so. This process is a miracle every time it works. Bringing forth a live child from inside one's body takes every ounce of strength, courage, and concentration a woman can muster.

And once the tiny infant emerges, the stunned, exhausted couple begin the 24/7 lifetime-marathon of parenthood -- a job I relish with every waking moment. But as many of us know, it should not be taken lightly -- for it can be the Agony and the Ecstasy of our very existence.