In the glow of sunrise among the ancient trees of the Angkor Wat forest, I watched something small and miraculous take its first breath. The air was thick with morning mist and life — the hum of cicadas blending with the soft cries of a newborn.
I knelt beside her mother, whose eyes were filled with that unique blend of awe and exhaustion only a new parent knows. As the midwife gently positioned the baby, I noticed something that flickered through the crowd’s eyes — a pause, a widening of gaze, as if something was “inside” the newborn’s neck.
The moment froze me.
For an instant, you could see the weight of that pause in every face. Was the infant hurt? Was there truly something wrong? No words were spoken, but the moment carried the sound of a question hanging in the humid air.
And then we all exhaled together.
What we saw wasn’t a foreign object or a sudden danger — it was a normal part of birth. In some deliveries, the umbilical cord can rest close to the baby’s neck or upper chest. For many people unfamiliar with birth, that sight can be startling at first glance. In fact, in about one in three births, the cord can lie near the neck without causing harm, and skilled caregivers know how to manage this gently and safely.
The midwife, calm and practiced, supported the baby’s head and shoulders, reassuring us without rushing. There was a tenderness in her touch that seemed to echo through the circle of family and friends gathered just beyond the towering roots of the forest trees.
And then… a cry.
Not a cry of fear, but one of vitality — strong and clear — as though that small voice was announcing, I am here. The tension dissolved, replaced by a warmth that felt as profound as the temple stones standing in silent witness nearby.
We passed blankets and smiles. Soft coos met tentative laughter. A mother, newly gifted with life outside the womb, cradled her daughter close to her chest under the dappled forest canopy. There was no hurried urgency, no misfortune — only a quiet, powerful reminder that even moments that seem worrying at first can turn into memories of wonder and connection.
I reached out and gently brushed the tiny fingers that curled around mine. In that touch was a story I’ll never forget: a story of new beginnings, deep breaths, and the way love can steady every uncertain moment.
Her head nestled against her mother’s shoulder, and with the ancient stones of Angkor watching over us, I thought of all the beginnings that have happened right here — unremarkable in the world yet breathtaking to those who live them.