birth another set of lungs. run children, run.

In one of the most savage displays of life, the newborn was delivered from the womb. The cord was severed, and the new life was cleansed. It's tiny heart beat inside it's chest. It's lungs made their first gasps for air. The innocent child took in its first few breaths, and the air around it went silent. The exhausted mother collapsed for lack of relaxation. The father was away on a business trip in Arizona. The doctor had already delivered thirteen babies today. Nobody was able to appreciate this savage display. No one had eyes that were ready to believe in the barbaric natural birthing process as a miracle. No one that is, except for me. I sat in the corner, and saw the new life pulsate like a few particles of dust that had fused together in the beginnings of a planet. I watched the tiny eyes blink, and the tiny hands grasp. I watched the innocence of the child radiate. I smiled at such a serene sight. The child smiled back. I saw his entire life play out before my eyes, and then I came back down. The doctor had just finished cleaning up, and the child was gone. The nurse was putting him down to sleep. The exhausted mother was now in a peaceful slumber, and I realized that she really did appreciate this miracle. She appreciated it more than I ever could. She was the mother of a miracle. All mothers are the mothers of miracles. The passing of new life into the world is a miracle in and of itself.