Every time I've attended a birth, the mother becomes my new hero. Sure, I know I've done it myself, but bearing witness to that great struggle and the stamina and bravery and sheer physical power that mothers show during labor and birth still leaves me in awe. I'm just so impressed. And of course I cry every time. I can't help it.

It's been over a month since my new niece Jane was born, just two days before Christmas, and I was so thrilled to be able to be there and to help document her birth. What a special time to be born! I couldn't help but reflect on Mary, so young and so far from home, in labor with her first baby, and in a stable no less. How very amazing that she struggled through labor as billions of other mothers have done since the beginning of the world, only after it was over she clutched its very Savior to her chest. What a way for Him to enter the world. Every mother who is nursing a babe at Christmastime must wonder at how Mary felt nursing the Son of God.

Jane first decided that she might like to get the ball rolling on the whole being born thing in the middle of the night, and then finally decided to make her appearance in the early afternoon, but only after several hours of pushing of course. She was just making sure there was a good story to tell. Thanks Jane. We were just all glad she had finally arrived, and have loved seeing her grow and change over the past month. No one will ever accuse me of not loving a new baby.