This past week was Rosh Hashana. The Jewish New Year.
On Rosh Hashana we celebrate the birthday of the world, and in doing so, we say blessings and pray for the upcoming year. For us, it isn't just an arbitrary number as the years go by. There are no fireworks or champagne. We spend the days in synagogue praying that God judges us favorably for the year to come, and eat special foods along the same vein. Apples and honey to have a sweet year, pomegranates so our blessings are as numberous as the seeds. We pray for our children, and for success. We spend our time with our loved ones, eat together, and wish each other the very best this year can bring.
This Rosh Hashana, however, I was called away from my family for the very first time on an important day. I know it is inevitable in my line of work, but I have yet to miss a birthday, a holiday, or a school play. Until Monday, when I disappeared from my home for nearly 24 hours to help bring twins in to this world. My husband and children stayed home and hosted guests without me, went to synagogue without me.
The mother I supported isn't Jewish, for her it was just another day of the week, the one in which her babies chose to arrive. To me, however, having a birthday on Rosh Hashana is extremely significant. The Talmud says that a single person is akin to an entire world. It follows then, that helping a baby enter this world is nearly as close as we can come to godliness, for we are nearing creation in its' most miraculous form.
On Monday, as we celebrated the creation of our world, my special Mama brought two new worlds in to being. It wasn't an easy birth. Some of them aren't. And it somehow seems fitting that on our holy day, the birth day of the world, some struggle was necessary to bring these two very special children into being. But she was brave. And she was powerful. And she has two new beautiful sons, complete and whole worlds unto themselves.