The Day I Was Reborn
A tender reflection on the moment my daughter first held my finger—and how that tiny grip changed everything. This is the story of how motherhood didn't just begin, but how it gave me a new life.
MOTHERHOODHEALING THROUGH MOTHERHOODBIRTH AND REBIRTHMOTHERHOOD TRANSFORMATIONSPIRITUAL AWAKENING IN MOTHERHOODPERSONAL MOTHERHOOD JOURNEY
5/10/20251 min read
Late in pregnancy, I’d drive to work listening to lullabies. Familiar childhood tunes filled the car, and when I sang along, my throat would tighten. Tears would rise, uninvited. Some part of me already knew how much was about to change.
I imagined the day I’d meet my daughter. I envisioned myself bawling like a baby at the sight of my own baby—this little life I’d carried, now finally in my arms. But one moment stood out in my mind more than any other: I saw myself reaching out my hand, and her placing her tiny hand on mine.
Like Michelangelo’s Creation of Man—but this wasn’t man and God. It was mother and daughter. A new creation.
People talk about the moment you hold your baby. But for me, it was the moment she held me. That one small grip held all the love I’d ever searched for. Her fingers didn’t just hold mine—they anchored me.
In that instant, I became someone new. Not just a mother—her mother.
Everything in my life felt uncertain—my job, my relationship, the future. But holding her hand, I knew I’d be okay. No matter what was ahead, I had a reason. A why. A purpose.
The day she was born, I was reborn.