The Beginning

11 p.m.
The Little Prince is lost in space.
Feels like Christmas.
“If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it.” ¹

5 a.m.
“My water broke.”
Abigail is anxious. “Let me out!” ²
The baby needs sleep. Sleep is done.

6 a.m.
Six minutes,
Three minutes,
Three minutes, five.

6:30 a.m.
Questions, forms;
Forms, questions;

7 a.m.
Birth is natural.

9 a.m.
145. 132. 123.
130. 138.
Waiting. Waiting.

10:20 a.m.
“Does it hurt yet?”
“We can make it hurt more.”
Pitocin flows.

11:15 a.m.
High blood pressure.
High voices.
Where is the coffee?

12 p.m.
Gentle heartbeat.
Longing to hold you closer.

2 p.m.
Mountains. Crying. Struggle.
Falling into rest. Surrender.
The next hill approaches.

3 p.m.
The flesh is numb; the heart is heavy.
The end is close, but still so far.
Waiting. Waiting.

3:32 p.m.
Birth. Life.
Love. Family.
Life. Love.

1. Raold Dahl, “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory”
2. Abigail didn’t explicitly say this, but her general demeanor made it quite clear; she is a dog, of course.


About David Anderson, Jr.

I'm a wandering pilgrim anchored in the Baptist tradition, tossed about by the anabaptist current. I am a minister at Pullen Memorial Baptist Church and a recent graduate of Campbell Divinity School. I am the husband of a beautiful woman, and the father of a blond-haired boy. I am a work in progress, struggling to work out my own salvation with fear and trembling. View all posts by David Anderson, Jr.

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