Yesterday our little Sofi hit the one month mile marker. That's thirty little days in this world that a majority of us take for granted, due to our various routines that we all inevitably end up in––notwithstanding the strong of heart and mind who refuse to get sucked into the whirlpool of the rat race. But, like parenthood, it's all about sriking a balance. A balance between home life and work life; between sleep and wakefulness; between our youth and our adulthood; between selfishness and magnanimity; between the without and the within.
Watching Sofia change so rapidly before our eyes forces me to consider the changes that I too am most likely going through, that Dana is going through––or rather changes that are taking shape in us, rather than us going through them. As Sofi's facial features become more defined from the generic mask of infancy she wore when she arrived, I notice things about myself that no one else can see that are becoming more defined, things like my sense of self, and sense of a greater force that holds everything together with invisible thread. While Sofia's little body is aclimating itself to life on earth as a human being for the first time, Dana and I are adjusting our minds and spirits to life on earth as complete human beings, and even for a life beyond the horizon of our powerful yet limited view of what it means to be alive.
Parenthood is a religion unto itself. No saints. No prophets (although it can be argued that each child is prophet sent to re-teach us how to love unconditionally) No mantras, creeds, no punishments. Only lessons. Only experiences. Parenthood is the great democracy, for there is no monarch on a throne. Each house is it's own kingdom. Each it's own judicial system. Each set of parents playing God, creating life, guiding and shaping life, all with the innate knowledge imprinted in the very fibre of our composition. Boil the ages down, and this is all there ever was, or ever will be. For every king comes from a woman and a man. Every soldier comes from a woman and a man. Every woman comes from a woman and a man. Every great revolutionary invention found it's birth by a woman and a man at some finite point in history, coming together––even if for a moment–– like hydrogen and oxygen to form something new, something bigger than themselves. Water where there was only air. Life where there was none before.
I can't help but think how, most things in life that we posess need to be purchesed, borrowed, taken or found. If one wants something from far away, it must be shipped to one's door. But a child. It comes from far away, for sure, but it comes from within. At one moment, there are two living in a house. A moment later... three. There need not be another soul in the house––although it's recommended to have a qualified individual.. say.. a Doctor or Doula––for a new life to be.
That is the miracle.