No one ever tells you that a baby's first cry is proof of God--of multiple gods. I'd you think about how fragile life is, and what women go through to give birth, a baby has got to be tangible evidence that there's something beyond this physical short-lived chaotic world.
I didn't understand this until just now. No clue. But then again, there are some things in life that you don't understand until they happen to you.
Bian Que and Taweret, the Egyptian Goddess of Childbirth, and Pius snip the umbilical cord in a flash. They lift the wrinkly, red, tiny bundle up.
Pure perfection.
That's what our baby is. There's even a halo around the wee one--and are those tiny fox ears? Or just folds in the baby's wrinkly head?
"He's beautiful," I gasp. "Or she."
Beaming, Bian Que says, "Congratulations. It is a girl. A baby girl godling."
"It's a girl," Pius shouts to the gathering.
