It is not lost on me, as I come to the crossroads in the corridor, that on the left is the NICU and to the right is the ward which contains my mother’s room. This floor of the hospital is a special place, maybe even a portal for souls, on the verge of life, and death. To the left, the tiny babies in the incubators, fresh and clean to the world, knowing nothing but the inside world, the before, in the wombs of their mothers, and now, out, feeling in their bodies for the first time, wiggling, and wanting to sleep, be held and eat.

I’ll never forget the cries of my babies in the NICU, proof to me that they really do come with fully formed souls in them, babies. My Constantin would cry loud like his life depended on it. His cry, said the nurses, was not one to be ignored, ever, and he was sure he wanted to eat. His latch was difficult from the beginning, and he would pull off with resolute determination when he was done. Even in utero he would stretch, pushing to get out. I was worried that they had been given the right names, as they were taken out of me with a cesarean section, and I wasn’t sure who was who. But when I saw him stretch, I knew it was him. I knew him before he was even born.

And now I sit next to my mother, who knew me before I was even born, who had wanted a baby before me, but was told she couldn’t keep it, as she prepares to leave this world to go to the next place, the next body, the next life, I wonder what she felt before she had me. Did she feel my sensitivity before I came? Did she pass her knowledge, her fears, her experiences down to me, before I was even born? Did I know her as well, her soul having been so close to mine, as she grew my body inside of her? This I both know, and will never know, and in between this lies faith.

Faith that we have known each other, in this lifetime and before, and that we will continue to know each other in this lifetime and beyond, working through our cosmic knowing, finding our way, intersecting, forever knowing.

Just down the hall, life enters and is cared for with kid gloves as here we care for our mother, respecting her wishes and dignity and loving her just as she is, as she prepares to leave her body, with the same care and attention as those tiny babies, who are just on their way in.

For now I am still living in a world in which my mother exists, and for that I am deeply grateful.