Loveborn

"Push down," the midwife urges me.

I hear her, I try to follow her instructions but nature has taken over my body. I feel another contraction is coming, again. They are not giving me any breaks.

The midwife reminds me to "Push now". What does she even think? As if my body is able to stop or even slightly control the strengths of mother nature. Of course I am pushing, I have already surrendered to the force of nature hours ago. The contraction is gone, I try to catch my breath and for some reason I glance over to the clock. I have been pushing now for over 45 minutes. I am so lucky the next contraction is coming, so I cannot overthink whether or not I should give up. In this short moment where mind controls the body, I start to think that it is better to just give up. I am glad that the body takes over the mind again by forcing me into what women have been doing for the past hundreds of thousands of years: giving birth.

I push again.

"Look, the baby is coming," the midwife said softly.

I am not in the right state of mind to decide whether or not I want to look at how I push out a whole human being out of my own body. But I can not ignore the midwife's gentle request so I do as she says and I look down whilst pushing. I see some ball shaped head coming out of me, lots of dark sticky hairs. It motivates me to push harder, this baby needs to get out of me now. It burns, but when the head is finally born, the rest of the baby's body slips out.

"It is a boy, congratulations, what is his name?", the midwife again, but this time I ignored her.

I look at the bloody, wet, kind of ugly but most beautiful creature on earth lying here on top of me. My child. It is crying. It is breathing. I look at my husband, he has tears in his eyes. I realize I am crying as well. I tell the tiniest thing on top of me that I am so sorry that I was so mad at him during his birth, because the experience was out of earth. I could not comprehend it. Then I assure him that I am not mad anymore. I gently touch his back, afraid I will break him. Ever after the forces of birth, I feel like just holding him might snap his bones. He is the most precious thing I will never possess.

The midwife is still stitching me up. I close my eyes and I feel utterly overwhelmed. I am so overpowered by hormones and emotions. That is when it hit me. I have never loved anybody like this. Not my friends, my siblings, my parents. Not even my husband whom I love a little bit more right at this moment. Not the abstract creature that was growing inside of me the last nine months. But the moment I saw his head poking out between my legs, I knew that love just got a total new dimension.

An infinity dimension of love that just came to me, at the very first sight.