“First moments, the merging of two cells into one, multiplying—two, four, six, eight—rapidly growing and forming the information that will decide my hair, eyes, teeth, hands. My DNA—everything I need to become human—and still I am invisible to the naked eye. I am grown from my mother’s own body, blood from her blood, heartbeat from hers, making her belly swell and hormones go crazy with rage and the desire for cream-filled donuts at 4:00 a.m.
My body grows and she puts a hand upon her belly to feel a foot kick her side, the jerk of hiccups, the roundness of my head. She is proud, proud of her body that is a force, a source of life to mine.
I grow. Her body tells her it is time. I come into the world with pain and euphoria as she breaks her beautiful body to give me life. She sees me for the first time, what she has made, and it is good. The intricacy of the human body is staggering—veins, heart, lungs, synapses, toenails, chemicals, eyelashes, all good and beautiful. She holds my body and breathes in.”
- Lisa Gungor, The Most Beautiful Thing I’ve Seen
When we are born, we see the world with fresh eyes. Eyes that have not yet seen anything but darkness for so long. Eyes that have sensed it, but now are seeing light for the first time. But the light we enter into can be harsh and intimidating. Even as babes, we are quick to make snap judgments about the world and those around us. The world seems scary at first, so spacious and cold and bright. So we cling to our mothers, we instinctively crawl from her navel to bosom to find comfort and seek reassurance that we are safe.
Birth is an incredible event for both child and mother (and father). After 31 long hours of labor, Wilder was born. It was the most amazing experience and one I will never forget. It is bittersweet for me to think about the fact that had I not lost our first child, I would not have my son today. The joy he has brought to our lives is immeasurable - and yet, we experienced such pain before that, and again after with another loss.
Sometimes new growth can only occur after there has been pain. Sometimes with loss or death comes new life. We see this so often in nature, in the seasons, in the earth, in humans, and in our savior.
Our family story is one of grace and joy. Of seeing light after darkness. Of new life being born after loss. But the full story is long, emotional, graphic, and personal - and I’m not sure how much the world needs, or wants to know. I also know that I have had close friends struggle with infertility and some women never experience pregnancy or birth, even though they long to. I hesitated to even share this because I know it can be difficult to see other people having babies when you are struggling with fertility or loss. Please know that I understand the feeling, and I pray that those who are struggling find comfort and hope.
So as I continue to work on deciding how much of our story to share and when, for now I will leave you with this video: a birth story in pictures, with a song that brought me hope, and an ending that brings new life:


