The Day You Were Born

A Poem

My mother-in-law said:

A woman who gives birth is herself born a second time. It touched my soul’s depths and inspired this rhyme. I felt something new within me after that day —

A day of the genesis, of new birth and new lives; A day of agony and distress and cries; A day of euphoria and strength and changed lives; A day of looking into those tiny little eyes.

My husband said:

How agonizing it was when they cut open my body! It took many hands to pull apart the tissues all ruddy. But forgetting all in moments as we laid our eyes on you —

A glimpse of bliss, of rapture, of sweet rhapsody; A glimpse of hearts stolen at first sight of your tiny body; A glimpse of soft cries, of soft hands, of a thing of beauty; A glimpse of our bond, of innocence and purity.

My mother said:

She could not bear it when she saw my heartbeat sinking. Walking out, hiding tears, she hoped I didn’t get an inkling. But when the new grandmom held you in her arms, it was —

A memory of her own story of my birth, of her strength and her mirth; A memory of her own journey, her struggles, her growth on my birth; A memory of the countless joys it fetches and the many lives it touches; A memory of how a tiny smile arrests us in its clutches.

My sister said:

The pain was beyond what you should bear. She stood by me when I was in utter despair. Her presence was my source of strength, and together we had —

A celebration of life, of rapture and joys untold; A celebration of a tiny being, life long to hold; A celebration of motherhood’s care so manifold; A celebration of a treasure more precious than gold.

My God said:

He would never leave me nor forsake me even unto my last breath. And not to fear even in the valley of the shadow of death. I held onto Him with every thread of hope and faith, and He was —

A God of strength, a tower of refuge, a mighty stronghold; A God of peace, forbearance, and power to be bold; A God of mighty hope, of fulfilled dreams, of promises, foretold; A God of jubilation, of happiness, of warmth when my heart grew cold.

And then, My Overwhelmed Heart said:

I don’t deserve to receive this precious little bundle of joy. Will I be able to nurture, nourish, and bring up this sweet little boy? Amidst the pain and chaos, an assuring voice from within me said, Now, no matter what, from this day on, my life would be —

A guiltless sacrifice of self, of plans, of a future, of wishes and dreams; A love that gushes like the rivers and pleases like the streams; Warfare that protects all the boundaries and mends all the seams; A prayer whose ever-burning incense ascends to the heavens each day like beams.

I love to know where poetry comes from in the poet's mind. The inspiration that drove them to write the piece. The time of day, the mood of the poet, or even the incident or person that gave them the idea.

Indeed, there is value in not knowing all of this and making your own interpretations of the poem. But in some cases, especially when I like the poem very much, I love to understand the inner workings that brought it about.

I wrote this poem in my early post-partum days. The idea and most of the content came to me around 2 a.m. when I was utterly sleep-deprived and awake with my baby.

The childbirth experience, especially the first one, is phenomenal for a woman because of the plethora of physical and emotional changes she goes through. It is precious, and her whole world changes. So, years after the experience, it was good to remember this poem and reconnect with that feeling.

The idea for the poem came from the Book of The Bible — Ecclesiastes, chapter 3, where it talks about ‘The Time For Everything.’ It is a beautiful chapter filled with depth of meaning and elegant poetic language.

I hope you enjoyed my story. Thank you for reading!