Sure, from one perspective, I get it. Two loving adults make love and nine months later, another being comes into this world. One they welcome and love, with oxytocin and other feel-good brain chemicals playing crucial roles in that “a perfect gift, just for us!” feeling.

Yes it is amazing.

But from another perspective, or, say, filmed from another angle, the birth of a child can seem like a goop-covered alien emerging from between a screaming woman’s legs. Which is not quite as bizarre as one bursting out of a person’s torso; though it is frequently as bloody. Not something a Martian scientist would describe as “beautiful,” in my estimation.

The miracle of childbirth? To my mind, the “wonderment” might be a better phrasing. It’s such a complex process. One that frequently goes off without a hitch. Or at least seems to. It yields a welcome perfection. And that is miraculous.

But wait a minute. When you consider all the miscarriages triggered by malformed fetuses, the birth defects, the mothers dying in childbirth…. When you look at the process up close and in detail, the veil of welcome perfection evaporates.

Consider this nitty-gritty finding:

Battle between the placenta and uterus could help explain preeclampsia

Childbirth involving a battle? That’s one messy miracle.

The lead paragraph tells the story:

A battle that brews in the mother’s womb between the father’s biological goal to produce the biggest, healthiest baby possible vs. the mother’s need to live through delivery might help explain preeclampsia, an often deadly disease of pregnancy. The fetus must be big enough to thrive, yet small enough to pass through the birth canal. In a new study, Yale researchers describe the mechanism that keeps these conflicting goals in balance.

That’s not the only baby-making battle that takes place. (Battle? Conflict of interests . . . struggle . . . ?) On the cellular level there are additional mechanisms that assure the growing child does not consume too many essential resources from the mother. To the detriment of her health. With growth unrestrained, the fetus would suck the life out of its mother. It is a near parasitic relationship. Near, not total. So the mother can live and bear another organism of its own type.

It all ends with the birth of a skin-bag encased, growing, organized collection of muscle, bone and brain cells. And how beautiful the child, clasping onto its mothers breast like a tick to a lobe of nutrients. (Sorry, wrong angle.) Even the birth of a hermaphrodite or conjoined twin might be welcome as miraculous, particularly if you focus your gaze on a lovely face.

Rather than a devil being in the details of childbirth, what I find is a hairier truth.

I don’t think this backyard lily is edible. But it does remind me of an artichoke. Which is edible, particularly when dipped in butter, or even better, mayonnaise. The petal structure and pattern, the inside filaments…. Could I cook and eat one? But a quick peek at Wikipedia informs me that their relatedness goes no deeper than two orders of classification: Plantae & Angiosperms. The order, sub-order, family and genus are all different. Hmm. Must be convergent evolution that is responsible for such similar traits (at least to my untrained eye).

From Sea Urchins See With Their Whole Body, I learned -

But some creatures, such as sea urchins, can react to light even though they do not have eyes. Previous studies of sea urchins have shown that they have a large number of genes linked to the development of the retina, which is the light-sensitive tissue in the human eye….

The research group behind the study showed that the photoreceptors seem to be located on the tip and base of the tube feet that are found all over the sea urchin’s body and are used to move. [bold added]

Interesting. But from the emphasized bits above, you can . . . see . . . why I put quotes around my use of see in the opening paragraph. I wonder, to qualify as the ability to see, must a creature need only photoreceptors and display a reactivity to light? One of the researchers, Sam Dupont, gave their reason for using the term:

“We argue that the entire adult sea urchin can act as a huge compound eye, and that the shadow that is cast by the animal’s opaque skeleton over the light-sensitive cells can give it directional vision.”

Interesting. But as the self-appointed sheriff of Semanticsville, I still wonder. In the least, this ruminating over the meaning of words like “see” and “vision” reminds me that when we use words to categorize our world, we go “all in.” Or not. It’s a black-white affair. But out in the real world — so much gray.

The above is not a recent photo. First, the branches of the ball cypress tree are bare. Second, that’s a mature female cardinal looking very healthy.

A more recent photo is likely to have skittish, disheveled juvenile cardinals visiting the feeder outside my window. And the cypress resplendent with feather-like foliage.

Every year this time in central Florida I invariably observe two developments that speak of the heat and humidity. 1. odd, hairless sores/growths on the squirrels (new pups only?); 2. the older lily plants in our pond become freckled with what is likely to be some sort of parasite.

Hot and humid. A good way to turn up the volume on biological activity. For good and bad.

Reading Human Microbiome Project: Diversity of Human Microbes Greater Than Previously Predicted, I encountered this:

The human microbiome consists of all the microorganisms that reside in or on the human body. Outnumbering cells in the human body by 10 to 1….

Um, so does that mean that what I considered “me” is only 10% of the biological stuff I walk around as? If my body were teased apart into elemental units, only 10% would be the building blocks of Andrew, the other 90% free-riders?

Well, not quite. First there is this addition info:

…some of the microorganisms cause illnesses, but many are necessary for good health.

Switching metaphors here, so my body is not a train, it’s cars clung-to and filled with free-riding hobo microbes. Many of the passengers actually contribute to my health and well being. Are even essential.

The 10 to 1 ratio can be a bit misleading in this regard too: as with the train, ridden by 9 passengers for every one of its cars, if we were to form a ratio by weight, vs. by elemental units, the genetically-me-stuff would again dominate. Relative to bacteria, a human cell can be super-massive. A Gulliver to Lilliputians.

(Bad Andrew! Switching metaphors mid-stream again. Sit, stay.)

Still. Biological information such as above teaches us just how complex life is.

As a freethought endnote I invite creationists to ponder which “theory” better explains the 9 to 1 ratio: so-called Intelligent Design or evolution. Be honest now.