A month ago, on Christmas Eve, Margaret Emmanuelle Violet Louise Norris Clark Clark joined our family and the world after a truly blissful birth.
Since then, the magical handful of days that have unfolded in her presence have felt like a reverie. It really is a dream come true to have our new daughter here. Like every pregnancy, birth, and new baby we welcome, I am exponentially grateful to God for our family, for our health, and for the joy of motherhood—and for the opportunity to continue to heal my body, my family, and my life.
Babies are little catalysts for change and inspiration, always. I can’t help but pity those who say silly things like “babies are boring” or “it’s such a relief when they finally develop a personality,” or “all they do is eat and sleep.” I suspect it’s not just a lack of imagination that stymies one’s ability to contemplate the soul’s quintessence, but an overburdening of trauma that prevents certain individuals from seeing at least the spark of a baby’s seity that simply emanates, effortlessly, from their very being. Although maybe it’s in the experience of being truly seen, witnessed, and beheld in our majesty by those who love us from the moment of our arrival that we are able to fully develop our capacity to therefore see the depths of others in the same way.
After all, what we observe is just a mirror. Wasn’t little Margaret wise to have chosen a family that views her as the precious ocean pearl that she is—“a whole vibe,” as they say ;). And isn’t it true that each of us is “a whole vibe” when we are perceived to be?
Margaret is, of course, like every other newborn baby in all apparent ways: small, pink, downy, and adorable. There is nothing especially outwardly unique about her, or any four-week old. I like to think that her skin is singularly soft and silken, her hair uncommonly velvety, her eyes a uniquely Atlantic hue of blue, her nose strikingly cute, and the fact that she has already begun to smile at me with unmistakeable recognition and adoration, a sign of her precocious brilliance.
But in fact, the truth of the matter is that all babies are born beautiful and in possession of deep intelligence. It’s not her loveliness that sets Margaret apart, I know. It’s that I am her mother and we belong to each other, and I have her soul imprint on mine from the time before time.
Above all, I love and adore each of my children for who they are, and I cherish beyond words the unravelling now of motherhood. Here is my newborn baby, my two-year old, my four year old, and on and up to my now-enormous children who are almost adults, but in whom I still see the outline of their former (and on some level, always) innocence.
All these children; each a treasured jewel that has ensued from the convergence of love and biology; from Lee’s and my devotion to each other, and from the claiming of our divine creative right to exist on this planet, and to be fruitful.
I do not take our joy, our prosperity, or this life for granted, and my wish for others is to experience the same degree of gratitude and abundance that we do. Family and health constitute true generational wealth.
I already miss being pregnant, although I can’t say that I unequivocally “love” being pregnant in and of itself, as so many women will attest. But I do love the mystery of it, the bloom of it, the potential of it, the adventure of it all. Mostly I love the many moments of convergence and expansion and then the lifetime that follows of having accepted and fulfilled a cosmic promise that ties me to all of my forebears and grandchildren not-yet-born.
It isn’t possible, in my experience, to separate the challenge, tension, exhaustion, and intensity of pregnancy, from the anticipation of meeting our baby, or the joy and relief that come when we finally hold our long-awaited child to our heart. Pregnancy itself is an initiation and an invitation to some of the deepest forms of shadow-integration available, and death and separation are always the counterbalance to birth.
Each of us will experience tragedy in our lives, of course, but there is no heartache greater than the loss of a child, or, in a different way, a parent. I’m no stranger to bereavement (of various kinds) myself, and I feel immense grief for those mothers and babies who long for each other, but are experiencing the trauma of separation.
Even in those rare moments when someone else is holding Margaret just a few feet away, or in the next room, I feel the sting of her absence.
But while most people can appreciate the pain of loss in the context of war, death, or dis-ease, there is a shocking degree of cognitive dissonance when the topic of surrogacy is broached.
In an astonishingly short period of time, child-trafficking in the form of surrogacy has become not just socially acceptable, but valourized, and those who support the practice (or who have a stake in its acceptance) will justify, rationalize, and defend it passionately, despite how obvious it is to those who know the nature of the unbreakable biological bond between mother and child.
The more experienced I become as a mother, the clearer it is to me that no fully individuated woman with healthy boundaries, healthy instincts, and an intact spirit would ever willingly become pregnant and carry a child in her womb for nine months only to knowingly hand that child over to a stranger at birth, under any circumstances.
Similarly, no whole person in possession of compassion, empathy, or integrity would ever separate a newborn baby—of any species—from its mother on the basis of simply wanting that infant for themselves. This represents a pathological level of selfishness and entitlement, and yet this is exactly the kind of covetous narcissism that is being encouraged and normalized by the reproductive technology industry.
The alienation of human beings from our biology, from our bodies, from our lineage, from our family ties, from The Mother, is not an accident, it is engineered, and it represents the cornerstone of Transhumanism.
“Why mum,” asks our 7-year old daughter, Xanthe, “does Margaret get upset so quickly when other people hold her, and then the moment we give her back to you, she is calm and happy right away?”
Because I am hers, and she is mine, and we belong to each other.
Download the gift of my acclaimed Pregnancy Affirmations mp3
*Read my book, PORTAL: The Art of Choosing Orgasmic, Pain-Free, Blissful Birth
*Listen to my podcast: COMING SOON
*Join the rich discussions & receive like-minded support inside my private community
*Go deeper inside the online courses I’ve created
*Watch any of the past Salons I’ve hosted
*Shop guided meditation & hypnosis tracks
Please send any general questions / inquiries to support@yolandenorris-clark.com.
For all media inquiries, please email media@yolandenorris-clark.com.