The Meaning of Your Birthing Story

Posted By on Jan 25, 2013 | 0 comments


As the days count down and my baby’s due date moves closer, I reflect daily on birth, pregnancy, parenting, etc.  Amidst all of these thoughts surrounding birth, I have spent some time thinking about my own birth.

Like you, I obviously don’t remember the moments when I first opened my eyes to the world, took my first breath, or felt the cold sweetness of the air that would become my life support.  But my mother has told me the story of how I was born.  She has told me many times in fact … One day I will get to tell my kids about those precious moments when we first saw each other with our own eyes.

Those moments when we first enter the world say something about us.  I’m not saying that my personality was basically defined at that point already, nor yours.  But, I haven’t exactly been present for many births.  I’ve actually only been present for one: my own.  So you wouldn’t exactly call me an expert.  Though, upon hearing my birthing story the least you could say is that I had a pretty good idea of what I was doing, lol.

How we interpret our own birth stories gives us insight into who we are. Or at least it can :P

When was the last time you thought about your birthing story?

 

What Does Your Birthing Story Mean to You?

I was born early, at 5 pounds at the start of October.  I was my mother’s second child, and hurried my butt into the world.  Yes, my mom spent a whopping 10 minutes in labor giving birth to me.  In fact, I was in such a rush to get into life that I ended up being born at home.  ‘Screw all my parents’ plans, it’s time to get this show on the road’, I might have thought.

Life is ever so precious. For me my birth story is a reminder of my love for life, and my conviction to make it matter.

And there I was born into my father’s own hands in our home … alright in the bathroom of our home.  It’s not the most conventional place to be born.  But I’ve never really been a conventional guy.  Sometimes I have flown under the radar.  That can happen when people don’t try to figure out where you’re coming from (or you shut them out).

The fact that I was born at home in my parents’ loving arms means a lot to me.  Not because it’s better than anywhere else.  However, it does serve as a reminder for how important love and nurturing are in my life.  Both given to me and for me giving to others.

There was another anomaly in this story.  My older brother was there.  He was almost two.  I’ll have to ask my mother what my older brother was doing at the time.  But that’s a whole different story …

Please share your birthing story below.  I’d love to hear it.  It matters.

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