5 things I was born to tell you
A new mother-to-be knew something wasn’t quite right. The pain was like an odd sort of indigestion. Never quick to worry, she wasn’t too concerned initially but went to hospital “just in case”.
No one anticipated what came. The mother gave birth several hours later to a tiny, fragile girl, clinging to a gossamer of life. 12 weeks early.
This was the late 1970s so hope was in short supply for the little girl. The nurses tried to smile optimistically at the new parents. The baby battled amid tubes that fed her, mostly isolated in a humidity crib to keep her warm.
When he could, the father held his daughter in the palm of his hand.
My heart goes out to those new parents from decades ago. They are mine. The baby was me.
I almost never was.
So on my birthday, in what could be touted as a glorious annual ode to my stubbornness, I want to shout:
This is what I was born to tell you
- We have a fierce capacity for love and courage and breaking and mending again. Allow yourself to feel and fall and fail and triumph.
- Our loved ones who are no longer here to taste the rain and write the poetry or dance with abandon, want you to live generously, buoyantly and creatively like this is your one chance. Because it is.
- Leave the boring jobs and unhealthy relationships and bad television in your past.
- For you, gentle soul, who is curious but afraid of how to actually do these things: you are not alone.
If you crave freedom and delight and variety and have a heart that flutters from one passion to the next but you’re worried you’ll never find your purpose: you are not broken.
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[Image credit: adapted from piervix’ image under Creative Commons.]