Sex had only ever been a job, a service rendered to provide a living. Men were animals with a need that I provided.
Yet in one dynamic moment, my entire life changed. His cry awakes in me a hope, hope that there was something more to life. I had been so sure that I would have a girl. But here was this boy, this gender that I had hated, that I had an overwhelming love for. He was perfect, his beauty and innocence was more than my heart had ever witnessed.
He needed me. His tiny face looked up and smiled. He did not judge my sins. He did nothing but adore and love me. His tiny hand wrapped around my finger, I sang to him. And there I decided I would change. I would be what he already believed me to be.
Rebekah had been a friend of mine for a while. We shared a home out of necessity and out of business. We were both pregnant at the same time and we helped each other to deliver our babies. Although she had formed an attachment, when her son was born three days after mine, I saw that she was lacking the change in her life that my son had brought. We began to quarrel. I wondered how much longer this living arrangement would last.
I lay in bed, nursing my sweet boy and dreaming of a better life. Perhaps I could get a job as a maid or even a nursemaid. As a nursemaid, my boy could gain a friend and I could spend my days beside him. It seemed too good to be true, but I now believed in the impossible. I stroked his soft cheek and softly began to sing.
I drifted off to sleep and slept with a peace I had not known for quite some time.
I soon awoke from my dream, or was I still asleep? It was a nightmare.
He was not breathing. His body was already growing cold and his body was limp.
“HELP!” I yelled out, but no one came.
I jumped up and lit a candle. It was still the early morning and the sun had not risen.
And then I looked, I looked upon my bed. It was horrific, but I was suddenly filled with hope. The dead baby upon the bed, he was not mine.
He was not mine! He must still be alive! Where was he?
I ran through the house screaming, Rebekah did not answer. It was her child. Her dead child that lay upon my bed. She had taken my son! I burst into her room.
She lay on her bed and looked up at me astonished, “What are you doing?!”
Who could help me? The truth was on my side.
“Oh great King!” I recited the story with a great plea before King Solomon. I was desperate for my son to be returned to me. To my horror, Rebekah cried and demanded that my sweet boy belonged to her.
His voice spoke, I hung on every word as shock and terror seized me. He called out to his servants, “Bring me a sword. Cut the baby in two. Half of the child will go to each mother.”
Why had I come here? I had heard he was a kind King, but all men were cruel. He had supreme power and he was about to murder the only thing I lived for.
“No! Please King!” I threw myself at his feet, “Give her my baby! Please do not kill him, I beg you.”
To my shock and amazement, I felt his hand upon my back, “Rise Mother. I know now that he is your son. I see that you love him more than yourself.” He then spoke to his servants, “Return the baby to this woman.”
As I held again my little miracle, my life was forever changed. I knew now what I would give my son. I knew now how to raise him and what he needed more than anything. I knew now the meaning of LOVE.