Life After Delivery

I saw an inspiring video that compelled me to create a similar dialogue that imagines a conversation between two unborn twins and how they viewed "life after delivery". May it serve our imagination based on what God has revealed to us from His divine revelation.

Twin 1: Have you ever wondered what comes after “delivery”?

Twin 2: Delivery? What’s that?

Twin 1: I imagine it’s—a great passage, a tearing away to something beyond this womb. “Delivery”.

Twin 2: (shifting uncomfortably) I've heard the tales. Terrifying, if you ask me. The walls closing in, crushing pressure, then nothing. Oblivion. Why speak of it?

Twin 1: Because I don't think it's the end. I think... I think there's a Mother.

Twin 2: A Mother? You mean the beating we hear? That rhythm that never stops? It's just the pulse of this place. The womb is all there is.

Twin 1: Not just the rhythmic beating. It’s the warmth that surrounds us, in the way we're fed without asking, in how everything we need flows to us. Someone is caring for us. Someone loves us, even now.

Twin 2: (defensively) That's just how things work here. The cord feeds us because it must. The walls hold us because they're solid. Love? That's a child's comfort in the dark.

Twin 1: Maybe. But look at us—our hands, our eyes forming and growing day by day. Why would we have hands if not to hold? Eyes, if not to see? This place is too dark, too small for eyes. We're being prepared for something beyond this womb.

Twin 2: Or our bodies are just... happening. Growing because that's what bodies do. You're inventing a purpose where there is none. (pause) Besides, even if this "Delivery" exists, how do you know it's not destruction? What if the passage tears us apart? What if we end?

Twin 1: (gently) I'm afraid too, you know. The unknown is scary to think about. But I keep thinking—if there's a Mother who's sustained us this long, who's woven us together so carefully, would she create us only to destroy us?

Twin 2: We don't know her intentions. We don't even know she exists.

Twin 1: Not only do can you hear the rhythmic beating that surrounds us, kind of like our hearts that are beating… if you are quiet and still, and trying to listen, we can hear Mother’s voice, even if we can't understand the words yet. And I've felt... (hesitates) I've felt her hand, pressing against this wall between us. Gentle. Protective.

Twin 2: (quietly) I've felt that too. But feeling isn't knowing.

Twin 1: No. But it's trust. I believe that Delivery isn't an ending—it's a birth. Imagine passing through this darkness, through pain, through a passage so narrow we'll think we're being destroyed. But on the other side? Light. Air. The Mother's face. Her arms. A world so vast that this (gestures around) will seem like we were sleeping.

Twin 2: Now you’re just talking nonsense and making things up. And if you're wrong? If there's only silence after? You speak with such certainty about things you cannot prove.

Twin 1: I speak with hope. Hope is all any of us have when we face the unseen.

Twin 2: (long silence) I look around and see only walls.

Twin 1: The walls are not the world. They're just the beginning of it. (feels a contraction) Did you feel that?

Twin 2: (fearful) Yes. It's starting, isn't it?

Twin 1: I think so. Are you afraid?

Twin 2: Terrified. Hold me?

Twin 1: (embracing) Always. Listen—when we pass through, when the walls press in and everything we've known falls away, remember: we're not dying. We're being born. Death here is life there. Mother is waiting.

And the walls began to press, and the passage opened, and in darkness they descended—toward the Light that would split their world forever, toward arms that had been waiting since before time, toward the first breath of the Kingdom that knows no end.

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known." — 1 Corinthians 13:12