Birth: (n) the emergence of a baby or other young from the body of its mother
So when women on television programs were pregnant, it was usually for only one episode, and then the baby would miraculously appear, beautifully swaddled and powdered.
So when I leaped into the real world of birthing humans, I was astounded at how much of the animal kingdom we maintain–both in the process of conception and the juncture of evacuation.
Because even though we talk about the glories of romance, human sexuality, when it’s in the process of performance, doesn’t look that much different from two dogs in the back yard, which we try to separate by spraying them with the hose.
And when I was present at the birth of my sons, I was astounded at how much blood, fluid, tissue, smells and general frightening ugliness occurred, just to remove a human being from the body of another human being, so we could all utter a very nervous cheer as we stared at the helpless glob of flesh.
It was terrifying.
No wonder Jesus suggested that since we had no control over our birth, no planning over how it was to be executed, and certainly no vote in the genes that we retain, that it might be nice somewhere along the line, to welcome an opportunity … to be born again.