Before I ever drew my very first breath… before I ever opened my eyes to the light of this world…I was held in a perfect human cradle, wrapped in my own little world.
I lived within the sacred shelter of my mother’s womb, sustained not by my own strength but by a lifeline through which life itself flowed.
For nine extraordinary months, I wasn’t separate. I was safely cocooned and connected.
Every heartbeat I had was supported by hers. Every ounce of nourishment I received filtered through her body. The oxygen that filled my tiny, forming lungs came not from the air I breathed, but from the air she breathed. I didn’t strive. I didn’t labour. I simply received because she gave me everything I needed in the safety of her precious womb.
This isn’t poetry alone. It’s one of life’s most “breathtaking” realities.
The umbilical cord, slender and unassuming, is a marvel of God’s creation. Within it flow three vital blood vessels which include two arteries and one vein protected by a cushioning substance known as Wharton’s jelly. Through this remarkable design, oxygen and nutrients are carried from mother to child, while waste is taken away. Together with the placenta, it becomes the unborn child’s complete and perfect life-support system.
Fascinating, mind-blowing stuff, I believe that the intricate design of this life support system cannot have simply evolved. It’s just too carefully crafted to be an “accident”. But that’s just one small but significant part of the workmanship and design of the human body.
In this hidden world of the womb, life isn’t independent.
It’s shared. It’s carefully constructed and created as a holding bay to nurture the gift of new life.
Then comes the moment that defines every human life – birth.
With a single cut, the cord is severed and what once sustained us directly is removed. And we’re released into a world where we must breathe on our own. The cry of a newborn is more than sound. It’s a declaration of life itself.
“I’ve arrived!”
And yet, even then, we aren’t truly alone and fully independent.
Every breath we take is a gift from the atmosphere around us and a reminder that life remains interconnected. We’re sustained by what we did not create, supported by forces beyond ourselves. Perhaps that’s why we so often speak of “Mother Earth”, as if creation itself continues to cradle us long after we leave the womb. In a way, the planet we live in is like another “giant womb” that sustains life. And our stewardship of this giant womb is critical and vital for our survival. We must look after “Mother Nature’s Womb” the same way we love our human mother.
A mother’s role doesn’t end when the cord is cut. It simply changes form.
The physical connection gives way to something deeper – an emotional, spiritual and enduring bond between mother and child. We’re held, nurtured, guided and shaped, not only by what a mother gives us physically, but by the love she pours into our lives, even when we’re an adult and living away from her.
She “worries” and “frets” over us like a “Mother Hen”. Because that’s how she’s been wired and designed with all the magnificent maternal instincts that many of us, especially boys and men, know little about.
What’s extraordinary is that each of us carries a quiet reminder of where we began – a small mark at the centre of our being. The belly button is more than a scar; it’s a symbol. A gentle whisper that says: “You didn’t come into this world alone.”
It’s almost like a message from one “belly” to another. And perhaps we never truly outgrow that truth.
Because life itself is built on the umbilical cord of connection. We lean on one another for strength, for encouragement, healing and hope. The idea that we’re completely independent is, at best, an illusion. At our core, we’re designed for relationship and for love and connectedness. And for heaps of “belly laughs”.
I’ve come to understand this not only through science, but through life itself.
But there was a time when my connection with my mother felt distant and broken. After she and my Dad’s divorce, she boarded a ship and left to live in England. I was still quite young at the time. And for years, her absence and my feelings of separation anxiety created questions, heartbreak, pain and longing. Yes, and even confusion. “Why did she leave me when I needed her most?” That question remained unanswered, until years later.
When I was a fully grown adult with a family of my own, we eventually reconnected and found our way back to each other. But the space between us remained strained and awkward. Simply because on the one hand we knew we were connected but on the other we felt like strangers. The years of separation between us felt like we were standing on different sides of the Rewa River. And if I’m honest, I still carried the scars of abandonment and betrayal from my childhood. I’d buried it thinking that it was the safest thing to do. In reality, I did it for self preservation.
So healing didn’t come easily for me because I buried the pain deep inside of me.
And it required something deeper than memory.
It required grace. But grace was something I knew little about.
With the gentle wisdom and compassion of my wife, I began to see beyond my pain. I came to understand that while the physical cord had long been cut, the deeper connection that was rooted in life itself had never truly disappeared.
It was simply waiting for a time of healing and reconciliation that could only come through compassion and forgiveness.
And so, I chose to forgive, not because the past could be rewritten, but because the future still held the possibility of peace and reconciliation. It was also important for her grandchildren to not have to navigate their relationship with an alienated grandmother.
So before my mother passed, I found the grace for the peace that would follow.
The cord that once sustained my body had been severed decades earlier. But in a profound and unexpected way, the connection had been restored. Not through biology, but through something far more powerful:
Love, compassion and forgiveness. And when you reflect on this fact for just a moment, you come to the realisation that all of these intangible gifts are intertwined and interconnected for living and life. They’re the intangible gifts with tangible benefits.
And perhaps that’s the greatest lesson of all.
Life begins in connection.
It’s sustained through relationship.
And it’s healed through love and forgiveness.
We may walk our own paths. We may breathe our own breath. But we’re never truly disconnected from the one who gave us life or from the truth that we belong to one another. And yes, we’re connected to this planet and all of its life giving gifts. We’re also connected to one another. How? Because you’re reading this right now.
The cord may be cut but the connection remains.
So this Mother’s Day, let us pause and remember.
Let us honour the woman who carried us, nurtured us and gave us the gift of life. Let us celebrate not only our own mother, but every mother, past and present, whose love continues to shape the world we live in.
For in every sense that truly matters…
She is the Mother of Life.
Happy Mother’s Day to each and every Mum. And may Almighty God bless you abundantly and pour His infinite love, grace and favour upon your precious life.
- COLIN DEOKI lives in Melbourne, Australia and is a regular contributor to this newspaper. The views expressed in this article are his and not necessarily of this newspaper.
The author says life begins in connection, it is sustained through relationship and healed through love and forgiveness. Picture: blacklove.com/Freepik
