Easter Monday Morning, March 30, my first child was born.

I remember that Easter well!  When I woke on Good Friday morning I looked out the window to see a gloriously sunny day.  I decided to go outside to weed the flowerbed on the south side of the house. I wore a short-sleeved blue flowered maternity smock and as I wheeled the wheel barrow up the hill from the garage I could feel the warmth of the sun on my bare arms.

My tummy was heavy with child.  I was tired when I reached the edge of the flowerbed so I sat on the wheelbarrow to rest.  It wasn’t long before I was lying out full length with my feet hanging over the end.   I remember looking up at the cloudless blue sky and listening to the birds sing.  Later as I dug in the hardened soil I noticed some daffodils pushing their way up through the ground.  I knew they would soon bloom in bursts of yellow. I felt so in sync with the world.

We lived in the country seven miles from town without any neighbors living near.  I loved the trees and quiet stillness of the country.  This was where I had always lived, up on a hill, in a house my father had built.  When I married, my husband and I renovated Mother’s basement and we lived there for the next seven years.

I remember that Easter Sunday we had gone to my husband’s brother and sister-in-law for dinner.  They’d had their first baby, twenty-nine days prior on March 1st.   Later that evening, back home, my long-time girl friend came for a visit.  We’d become best friends when we were in grade three.  She and her family were new neighbors and lived a mile down the road.  She’d come to visit me often that year, from Sept. until June as I lay in bed with rheumatic fever and unable to go to school.  Illa and I visited late that Easter Sunday night and I got to bed in the early hours of the next day, Easter Monday.  I woke with tummy pains.  I woke my husband and told him I thought I was in labor.  We timed the pains for just a short time; they were about five minutes apart.  We decided around 5 a.m. to leave for the seven-mile trip to the hospital.  We knocked on Mother’s upstairs door and told her we were on our way.

At the hospital after completing the admission forms and to my chagrin, I was taken in a wheel chair to the labor room on the third floor where my husband was asked to leave.  Shortly after the nurse had prepped me the doctor walked through the door.  He walked over to my bed, put his hand on my knee and said, “Now, we are going to put into practice what we have been working on over the past nine months.”  “I want you to take a few deep breaths and relax.”  The hypnosis we had been practicing took immediate effect.  When I took my second breath I felt as if I rose above my body and was looking down at myself.

My doctor was roughly sixty years old, not a big man but on the short side with a stocky build. He appeared strong and assured.  He spoke with a heavy German accent and was obviously ahead of his time to be practicing hypnosis.  He’d been my paternal grand-parent’s physician.  At each of my prenatal visits Dr. would teach me how to relax and listen to his voice.  He would relax my whole body starting at my feet and ending at my head, telling me to tighten and relax each part of my body.  He would say things like, “imagine you are going for a walk on the beach and you can feel the warm breeze blowing through your hair”, or “you are walking in warm sand and you feel it squishing up between your toes”.  I did, I felt it.  I trusted him explicitly.

Now in the labor room I listened to his voice and his direction and relaxed completely. He stayed with me for the next four hours and then we moved into the delivery room.  I was not given any medication. Dr. adjusted the mirror above me on the delivery table and said, “There, now, can you see.” “I want you to be able to see your baby being born”.  Not long after he said, “Now, it is time to start pushing the baby out.”  “I want you to listen carefully and do exactly as I tell you”.  “That is good,… now push down very, very, very gently…, good,…now again…, slowly now…, perfect…, another little push…, good…, maybe three more pushes and the baby will be out, good,… perfect…, I can see the head, it is crowning, can you see it?”   “Oh” he said… “I can see the hair it is the same color as yours, it’s gold.” “Now one more push!”… “GREAT,… GOOD,… LOOK,… IT IS A BOY!!”  I said, “Are you sure it is a boy?” and he said “Yes, I have seen boys before.”  We all laughed.

Easter Monday morning my firstborn baby boy was born at 10:10 a.m.  He was slightly underweight at only six pounds. They placed him in the incubator beside me and I am certain I saw a smile on his face and I most definitely had a smile on mine. I looked out the case room window and saw the Easter Bunny hop across the grass.  I was so happy.  I can honestly say I felt no pain, only some mild discomfort. I saw and remembered crystal clear the entire birth.   I give the credit of a painless and perfect birthing to the professional practice of hypnosis by my doctor and my ability to relax and listen to him.

My firstborn Son is bright, beautiful and like pure gold.  Each year as Easter comes around and as I witness daffodils birthing through the ground I know that they TOO will be bright, beautiful and like pure gold bringing with them Spring happiness.

copyright 2017

THE MEANING & SYMBOLISM OF narcissus / daffodil
Symbolizing rebirth and new beginnings, the daffodil is virtually synonymous with spring. The March BIRTH FLOWER a gift of daffodils is said to ensure happiness.



  1. Oh My your stories of Cleo , and your son are so beautiful . So descriptive , with such feeling , and warmth . You are a very talented and loving person Roseline . I too took early childhood training in Britain, then came back to Canada and worked for over 30 years with special needs infants to 6 years of age , and latterly was a consultatant teaching parents and daycare aides how to teach and work with these beautiful children . I loved my work with such a passion.

    Liked by 1 person

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