Mamzer and Rim Shots

My midwife days and nights are over, for I can never surpass this evening. Our Almighty did not make a magic universe. He made the rules and then He followed the rules. To pull this off, someone flawless was needed, someone spotless and unOriginal. And what was needed was a scapegoat, a carpenter, an altruist who could withstand the blame and the shame. Mamzer! 

Oh, and a donkey, too. And a little drummer boy. Pa rum pum pum pum.

Stage 1

Three centimeters: the contractions began subtly, then built, then consumed. There were no drugs back then, no epidurals, no fetal heart monitoring, no NICUs, no blood banks. What happened simply happened, triumphant or disastrous. 

Four centimeters: the most significant person lay in utero, suffering the slings and arrows of mammalian reproduction. 

Five centimeters: each contraction stifled each of His breaths within. A rhythm of destiny, peaks and valleys of amortized oxygen debt. 

Six centimeters: His crown was compressed, over and over, symbolizing the ones all would failingly attempt to place on His head. She cried out with each pang, huffed, puffed, survived each, basking in the momentary respite before the next. The burning juggernaut of pressure trying to kick open the door.

What could go wrong? A DNA mismatch? An arrest in ontogeny? Faulty implantation? Toxemic host? And blood? Abrupt abruption? Don't even speak to me about spilled blood!

Seven centimeters: she no longer sees the periphery, the crowd, the expectants. She only sees within. And lives for each respite.

Eight centimeters: her brow sweats, her teeth gnash--pain so bad. Bad enough to doubt accepting an invitation from God Himself. RSVP.

Nine centimeters: a deluge flows, and the Passenger readies to divide the sea. Is this normal? Pa rum pum pum pum.

Stage 2

Ten centimeters: the only crowning that He will ever have. I stand ready. I stand honored to do the one thing I was born to do. The universe watches me. Time and space come together as one, in communion with all that was, is, and ever will be. I feel the eyes of the Big Bang drill me with expectations. 

I am the only one who lays hands on Him, the ironic gesture that He will use on others later. I eye the myrrh. She will need it. Will someone stop that infernal drumming? Little drummer boy, leave us! We don't need that. Get him out, for God's sake!

Ra pum pum pum...

Stage 3

He is here, in my lap, and I dry Him. He is blue. Oh, my God, my God is blue. And cold. And evilly inert! I tap his soles. Hard, harder, harder yet. My finger whisks out his mouth. The universe doubts me. I doubt me. Should I fail, then what?

He gasps. I can see in his eyes He is amazed. He breathes in the liquor of atmosphere, satisfying a first hunger. He lives! The stars and planets that have aligned shine on us.

Placentation ends and I discard His previous life according to the traditions. Madonna and child bond as the oxytocin surges and the prolactin delivers. They won't be needing me to stay as His wet nurse. I refuse my fee. As if I could accept! I stagger off. It's been a long night for me. Oh, and her. And the universe.

As I wander, I wonder: why not magic? Why not a placement on top of the society, in command of legions? Why not perch the most important Person--the handshake between Man and God--where He deserves? He gambled an only child on ancient, reckless, faulty, and dangerous midwifery, at the mercy of random physiology and vulnerable to complications I could never remedy. Why take such tremendous chances with such a tremendous birth? It is an unnerving truth that I come to realize:

He took a chance on us before we were asked to take a chance on Him. 

It's only fair that One follow the rules One establishes. Don't do to others what you are not willing to do yourself. I wandered and wondered more. Was it all for us? 

Not entirely. 

Is there anything He could gain by going our way before we were asked to go His? Yes! An almighty, all-knowing omnipotency can indeed garner something new. What a thing to contemplate--that He could learn something new. But He did. He began that night. That night an almighty, all-knowing omnipotency did something He could never do on His own. 

He experienced wonder. 

Wonder is in the mind of the beholder. When all speak of the gifts the Child gave us, we should all appreciate the gift we gave to Him. 

Wonder. The only thing we could give to complete Him. 

Ra-pum, crash!

Stage Exit