God’s Love Through Motherhood
By Iris Raeshaun
This recent Mother’s Day brought
me many wonderful memories of parenthood. All of the beautiful pictures
of people with their mothers posted
on social media sites were a joy to
see. I remembered the overwhelming
love I felt with my first born twenty-some years ago. I considered God’s
endless and indescribable love for
mankind.
Nelle was almost born at The Troubadour, In Laurel, Mississippi where
I was dancing the night away. Checking in Forrest General Hospital at
6:30 a.m., Dr. Kelly R. O’Neal told
me to gear up for a day of labor, that
I wouldn’t deliver until late evening.
During the labor, my family chatted in anticipation. I was pleasantly
surprised that my fourth grade math
teacher came, Cora Ella Magee, and
was on hand ready to help me breathe
and count. For a short minute, however, I felt impolite for not conversing
much. I was wondering how I was
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supposed to be dignified delivering
a baby with them standing around
gapping. It’s hard enough having a gynecologist exam. This seemed just as
bad, or worse. But after a few intense
contractions, I could have been back
on The Troubadour dance floor with
hundreds of people standing around
and it wouldn’t have mattered one bit.
I didn’t know how my life was about
to change. Six hours later Dr. O’Neal
and his nurses ushered me into a delivery room, where he told me to push
hard at the count of three. He was, is,
a great doctor but slow counter. This
is where my math teacher could have
come in.
After an eternity, I gazed into a set
of consuming irides glaring back at
me. Suddenly, like the wind, there
entered into the room an overwhelming, swelling presence of love. I feared