Birth

Today is a weird day for me. And for a lot of other people. I woke up today thinking about birth. Not an altogether weird thought, given that I am a labor & delivery nurse. But then I turned on the computer and read that Osama bin Laden was dead. In a flash, I went through all sorts of emotions. Started with, "finally, they got that monster" and ended with "I am so sad for our world." I started to see postings from various people...and news reports that people were celebrating in the streets. At face value, this did not surprise me...or even bother me right away. But the more I sat with it, the more it began to bother me. And I want to try and explain why:

I work in an inner-city hospital. The population we serve is primarily poor or new immigrants. I love where I work. By working with so many people from so many parts of the world, I have seen birth in so many different ways. Every culture births their children in their own special way...but at the core, they also birth the same. No matter the culture, there is rejoicing at the entrance of new life. Time and time again, women enter into labor...they sweat, they cry, they moan...they swear. And at the end of their toils is new life. Fresh and unspoiled by the misdeeds of mankind. Pure innocence.

I have labored with women from almost every culture. American, Mexican, Equadorian, Hmong, Nigerian, Liberian, Somali...and there is one unifying element: the strength of the women...and the love of the families that welcome this new life. It has pained me so in recent years with our country's "war on Islam." Because there is nothing more intimate than birth. So I have sat with Muslim women through some incredibly long and hard labors. I have cried with them during their losses. I have been brought to tears at the sight of a Somali father leaning down into the curved ear of his new daughter as he prayed over her. It sounds like song to me. I have struggled when I hear people make statements like, "they do not respect life the way we as Americans do." Nothing could be further from the truth.

You can't be with families through this without feeling a connection. No, I don't pretend to have any special insight into the cultures of others. I don't need to. Because during labor, we find the commonness of our humanity to relate to each other. Even our lack of a common spoken language doesn't matter. So, I guess I have been going about my life with a world view where I seek to find what we have in common instead of where we are different.

And this is where I come to my troubles today. I am in conflict. I cannot celebrate. At core, I cannot find "joy" in the day. Instead, I just feel sorrow. Sadness that the world is continuing to operate out of a stance of "separate."

I can only pray for peace and for a day when we will seek out what we have in common.