June 15th, 1984. The way I remember it, after a year of preparing to incarnate and selecting my parents, today is finally the day I will be born.
I tried to put my mother into labor
I started to put my mother into labor because I want to come out today. And my father tells her to roll over and go back to bed. Looks like this is going to be a long labor for her, after they were out the night before at the track and my father won a race. Now I'm going to be lucky to even get to the hospital by the early afternoon.
Fortunately, we arrived there, and I'm my mother's first child. She is not even 27 yet — she's about to turn 27 in a few months. She's really wanted to have me, even though some of my family members on my dad's side were pretty critical of her entire life with me, given I'm my dad's third child at this point that people know about, at least. And yet, I am really ready to go and excited.
It is getting crowded in here
As the birthing process begins — wow, it is getting crowded in here. I am a couple weeks early, but I really want to be born on June 15th, 1984. All the astrology lines up perfectly for this, and I can't wait to get out of here. It's very crowded. And unfortunately, this means I'm enduring much more being crowded on the way out.
I've done this many times. I know exactly how this works, and it is still the worst claustrophobia you'll ever experience. God, my head is getting squeezed all over the place. Good thing my skull hasn't formed yet.
I'm not really separate from my mother yet. This is both a really exciting and a really scary time, because we've kind of been one soul, kind of like cells right before they divide. So this is the initial separation. I won't be able to as freely move about, and I'm going to be locked in this body, so I'm a bit nervous about it. This is the kind of thing I keep coming back to: that we chose to incarnate here, which is part of why I believe no one is truly innocent.
I'm not waiting for the doctor's dinner
And wow, I better hurry up and get out of here. So I'm encouraging my mother, because this doctor's trying to go home and have dinner with his family. I don't think so, buddy. I'm coming out today, and you can go have dinner if you want to, but you better get your butt back here to the hospital to deliver me. And we're having a natural birth — no C-section crap. I'm glad my mother is verbalizing this. And the doctor relents finally and is going to take me out the proper way, instead of cutting a big hole in my mother's body totally unnecessarily.
Finally out, and the work begins
Wow. Every time, it's like, God, this squeezing and this compression — it's worth the release once you're done. But holy crap. Finally, I am out of here. And God, that is a shock. I want to go back in, in a lot of ways. Now I have to start breathing on my own. The work begins.
I haven't had to do anything at all except give my mother some advice for the last nine months, which has been really relaxing. And now the work begins. My God, breathing. What a shock. And a joy, at the same time.
They've cut my umbilical cord. I'm screaming loud — there is no doubt I'm alive and well. But now they're taking me away from my mother, and I was not quite prepared for this. This is definitely a bit scary, and I'm going to cry more about this. But thank God I'm here. It's been quite a year just to set this up, and I'm really excited for the life I'm going to have here. If you enjoy these reflections, you can watch more of them in my Life playlist.