第1部分(第4/6 頁)

　its　golden　hide。　The　unprehending　look　of　the　mother　as　she　licked　him；　expecting　life。

Birth　出生（3）

My　neighbour　was　convulsed　by　a　sob。　“Such　a　beautiful　creature　–　and　only　fit　to　be　buried。”

I　thought　of　her　forebears：　generations　of　women　in　rural　Ireland；　some　of　them　still　living；　who　gave　birth　to　still…born　children　because　they　didn’t　have　access　to　the　medical　services　they　required。　Their　babies　were　taken　away　in　the　dead　of　night　to　be　buried　by　the　men　in　unconsecrated　ground：　secret　little　graves；　soon　overgrown　and　forgotten。

I　imagined　the　depth　of　those　mothers’　grief；　the　searing　pain　of　loss；　a　nameless　tragedy　shared　by　no　one。　“Such　beautiful　creatures　–　and　only　fit　to　be　buried。”

And　I　wondered；　would　those　women　have　wept　over　a　calf？

The　closest　I　have　ever　e　to　the　mystery　of　life：　a　Premature　Baby　Unit。　Watching　a　tiny　scrap　of　life　in　intensive　care　struggling　in　agony　for　each　breath。

Twice　already　he　has　given　up　and　had　to　be　resuscitated。　The　staff　say　they　can　do　no　more。　The　rest　is　up　to　him。

Twelve　hours　ago　he　was　safe　from　harm。　fortable；　secure；　in　the　warm　embrace　of　his　mother’s　womb。　This　is　what　he　got　instead。　He　is　alone。　A　sign　says　‘No　Touching’。　Each　part　of　him　is　either　punctured　by　a　needle　or　attached　to　an　instrument。　Only　his　suffering　cannot　be　treated。

“Why　would　he　want　to　live？”　I　say　to　the　nurse。　“What　attraction　could　life　hold　out　to　him？” She　smiles。　“He’s　getting　the　best　possible　start。　From　his　point　of　view；　things　can　only　get　better。”

At　that　moment；　the　sun　rises：　a　big　orange　on　the　winter　horizon。　A　ray　of　hope　falls　on　my　newborn　son；　and　suddenly；　his　breathing　seems　less　laboured。

By　the　end　of　the　day；　he　is　out　of　d