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This article was written by Emma CushmanWood, a junior at DePaul. Emma is a former Interfaith Scholar and the current president of DePaul Interfaith.
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A Prayer to the God of Life*
My father whispers in his low voice to my mother a verse. His hand on her swollen belly. A tiny heartbeat inside. The midwife smoothes her hair and dampens her head with a moist towel. Beads of clear water mixed with sweat run along her tender cheekbones.
Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls… She groans low as each wave of pain washes over her. Pulsing. Pulsing. The waves are strong and beat against the rocky shore. As each new wave comes, another one follows. My small hand grasps her wet palm. I listen to the deepness of her breath.
…All your waves and breakers have swept over me… Breathe in, breathe out, they tell her. In syncopation, my mother and I breathe a wave of fresh air, in and out. The midwife tugs me away. I watch them. Her body covered in sweat. His arms support her. They lie back against the pillows on the bed as he lets her weight sink into his skin.
…By day the Lord directs his love, at night his song is with me… The midwife brings me to the end of the bed. There is no light shining through the windows this evening. Candles light the room in a warm glow. My naive eyes, full of wonder, as a small head pushes through. Go on, touch the baby, they tell me. Gently my finger touches the soft head. —a prayer to the God of life.
* November, 21st, 1995