I watched a video the other day of a kangaroo, and the baby she had just given birth to. It looked like science fiction, or a cartoon plot imagined and developed by a first-grader.

This massive kangaroo with her shoulder muscles bulging, her tail dense and capable of destruction. Legs for days. This kangaroo gave birth to a little pink baby the size of a gummy bear. I watched in awe and delight as the gummy bear wiggled its way up and into mom’s pouch. The blind, deaf gummy bear operating only on instinct. Mom couldn’t help gummy bear make it to the pouch— with wild-eyed wonder, she simply had to watch scene unfold. I wondered, then, if kangaroos pray.

It’s as nature intended, where some make it, but many don’t.

I think of all the other animals having babies, where some make it, but many don’t.

I think of the human mothers, filled with fear and hope, watching their babies grow.

And still, some make it, others don’t.

As gummy bear climbs Mt. Everest to mom’s pouch, I have so many questions for God or mother nature or evolution.

Why give birth to a baby not yet ready for this world? Who decided that plan made the most sense? Shouldn’t a baby roo be born ready to kick and fight? Be more alive?

My hand rests on my stomach, now an empty womb for 5 years. But still bigger than I’d like. More jiggly and droopy than I’d prefer. Still looking pregnant some days, especially after a big meal.

I scoff and say to the mom kangaroo in my screen, “Must be nice giving birth to a gummy bear— the painless process, the lack of pregnancy evidence taking over your body, where those toned muscles and slim features used to be.”

I imagine mom kangaroo turning her head slowly on screen, until we’re making unexpected eye contact. Her gaze drops to my hand resting on my deflated balloon belly.

“Must be nice”, she says, “giving birth to a baby already complete. Eyes, ears, and nose searching for you, knowing you.”

“Must be nice”, she says, “to simply rest your hand on your belly and enter a time machine. A place you can feel and see as a reminder of who you made, long after they’ve left the safety of your pouch.”

Written on 8/12/25 during a writing group where the prompt was to write about a body part that you have either a difficult, neutral, or positive relationship with.