RAMBLINGS

Birthing Person

Nothing more. Definitely less. What a cold and inhumane reference to a woman, the only gender to become a mom. Mother. Ma. Mama. Mommy. Is this how our humanness is being attacked? Nothing said, labeled or practiced is normal anymore. No reference is made to the Bible to establish and obey guidelines anymore.

What makes us human and created in God’s image is being stripped from us. Stolen from us. It’s an insult. It’s belittling. It contradicts God, and His references to mothers. We are being conditioned to evolve into emotionless robots, controlled by everything the Bible warns us against.

I am mom. Ma. Mother. Mommy. I am moeder. Mamma. Moeks.

I am not a birthing person. I am a vessel, chosen by God to bring souls into this world, created by God and in His image. A mother responsible for raising these souls while placing everything else in my life second to these creations of God. A job bestowed upon me to nurse and nurture these little souls. To clothe and feed them. To teach them and remind them of their wonder. To love them and keep them of God. To laugh when they laugh, to cry when they cry. To cradle them in my arms as babies, toddlers, teenagers, and later, as adults.

To give them somewhere safe to thrive in. To stand back while they fall, and then, to learn from their pain. To pick them up again, remind them of their worth, and let them try again. To prepare them for a cold and cruel world that wouldn’t hesitate to spit them out if they don’t conform to a man-made existence. To keep them close to God, His rules, His will, and show them the doors He opens for them. Then, when they are ready, to let them go, and trust that the circle will continue with them, and the souls they bring into this world.

I am mom. Ma. Mother. Mommy. I am moeder. Mamma. Moeks.

It’s a title bestowed upon me by a God so powerful, He sends us His precious souls. A privilege I live, every single day of my life. A title gifted, but one painfully, and at times, tearfully earned. A mom who makes mistakes, and knows that when she fails, and she does often, God will step in and take over for a while. An honor to hear these little souls call me mom. Mother. Ma. Mommy. Moeder. Mamma. Moeks. What a scary thought to imagine that these great loves could call you “birthing person.”

For the remainder of my life, I will open my eyes and wake up with these humans on my mind, and at night, I will close my eyes and pray for their safety, happiness and health. As old as they get, I will watch them, even from a distance, guide them, lead them, protect them, love them and remind them of their value to not only me, but to God. For as long as I live, they will be the most valuable and precious gifts to my life, and not a day will go by that I won’t miss them, and long for my arms around them. Because, even after the novelty has worn off, even when they have matured into adults and have welcomed families of their own, even when they have all things figured out, my heart still reaches for them. My mind still functions with them as a priority. My soul will forever hold onto theirs, because not only did I raise them, when God took over, they raised me too.

Is this the definition of a “birthing person?” Or, are we the mothers the Bible refers to?

With love,

Alice VL

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