I tell you now in English, but what I actually remember had no words. Only impressions and fleeting glimpses remain. Life began with nurturing warmth. I could feel myself grow and sometimes observe a golden red glow thru my eyelids. Warm hands would caress me through a thick blanket of soft skin; reassuring me when I kicked. I smiled and laughed; mama hearing me; she echoed it. Then her proud smile as she grinned from ear to ear. After all I was her first baby and this a new experience for us both.
I kept growing; following an urge to reposition myself. I somehow knew I would soon be leaving her womb. Yet that day my papa wanted me to stay. So I stayed until his spirit was more troubled that I should come out.
Being born is too traumatic. My mama is screaming and being reassured that all is going well. I cannot see but there is a different light now upon my eyelids. Suddenly it is cold and I try to back up. I am being handled quite roughly. My head is being used like a bowling ball. Apparently its the only leverage they had to assist and pull me into this harsh yet wonderful world. My head retains the grasp of the doctor that held on with such strength. It will return to normal after a few days. It is during this time that I learn screaming; crying brings comfort.
Much of my early life was filled with confusion. The only reassurance I had was in being loved. They built me a crib that rocked and it was near to the path of our tent. So many people loved to come by and give me a push and hear me giggle.
Life was good at level zero.