Think about the weight of a newborn child. Not the 14 ounces kind of weight...I mean the weight of potential: In that small thing is an entire life, which may seem trivial in the context of all the entire lives that happen. But only once you've experienced an entire life can you actually grasp the magnitude of its content and its possibility. I'm only 22 years old right now, so I have no concept of what a life is, compared to a 75-year-old. But I have a much better (and bigger) concept of what it is than I did five years ago, and the potential of a life seems to be growing exponentially. Only once you grasp that, once you know what a life is and you are looking at it taking its first breath, the very first step in the the most profound, complex, and beautiful journey in the universe, can you really appreciate the beauty of the miracle of birth.
(For the record, I have no children.)
On a related note, I had a lovely subway ride home today. I was reading about embryology, and a woman came and sat next to me. She leaned over to see what I was reading, so I ingored her thinking she was a weirdo. Then, a minute later, she stuck a picture in my face. It was from the ultrasound she had just had - a picture of her 10-and-a-half-week-old embryo. She said, "Look, you're studying this and I have this!" I said, "Is it yours?" and she said, "Yes, I'm 10-and-a-half weeks now." I said, "Congratulations!" and we shared a huge smile. (I then got back to work.) It was a lovely coincidence, and it just goes to show that talking to strangers on the subway can be delightful. My favorite part was the lady watching us from across the train, who was intrigued but had no idea what was going on (she could see neither the content of my book nor the picture from where she was sitting). On the L-train, people kept staring at me because they were fascinated by the contrast between my artsy look and my sciencey reading material. I felt pretty cool.
