Oh, Blessed Mother (and the lamb she raised for slaughter)

By Evie Sum

The Angel came when Mary was twelve.

They came to her as she was kneeling by the altar, their figure serene amidst

the flickering candlelight. “You are honored very much,” they proclaimed. Their

pure wings stretched wide behind their back. “You are a favoured woman of God.

You have been chosen from many.”

Mary did not dare raise her head nor move the slightest inch, lest she offend

the Angel. Her hands remained clasped in prayer. She waited, and they

continued.

“See!” They said, “you are to become a mother. You will become pregnant, give

birth to a son, and name him Jesus.”

At this, she grew confused. Barely an adult and an unsoiled virgin, how could she

bare a child? This she asked, quiet and trembling.

“The Holy Spirit will come to you, and the power of the Most High will

overshadow you. Therefore, the holy child developing inside you will be called the

Son of God.” They answered. Their wings fluttered behind them, white feathers

drifting to the ground. “Nothing is impossible for God.”

Mary’s heart swelled. Oh, what luck! What honor! To be favored by the Almighty

Father, blessed with a holy child. Mary agreed, delight tumbling off of her in

waves; the Angel smiled in return.

“Then go, Mary, and rejoice. Your Son shall be the Saviour of Mankind.”

She rose and fled from the temple, smiling brightly, lighting up the world as she

ran home. Oh, what wonderful news! Her parents would be joyful! Her betrothed

would too, no doubt, for Joseph was a man of integrity and intelligence. He would

welcome her and the babe with open arms, beaming just like her, for they were

chosen.

--------------------------------

Time passed swiftly. Sweet spring gave way to summer, bringing with it the

shining sun and lush green grass. Mary cupped her belly, marveling at how much

it had already grown. The babe inside is healthy and large, she is sure, for she

was rotund as a ball!

Gently she caressed it, gazing at herself in the mirror. “Hello there, little

Jesus.” She murmured with a smile. “Mankind’s holy light. I cannot wait to meet

you.”

She imagined holding him in her arms, cooing at his pudgy cheeks and innocent

babbles. She imagined watching him take his first step, say his first words. Would

he take after Joseph, sitting beside him as they carve away at wood to make life?

Or would he resemble her, tottering after her as they help around the house?

Or, even better yet, he would take after God himself and be born with boundless

wisdom and kindness, befitting that of the Messiah.

“Come to me strong and hale, my dearest Saviour.” She pats her belly fondly. “We

are all waiting for you.”

--------------------------------

“Oh, Angel.” Mary remained kneeling despite the discomfort; her belly bulged

painfully from her petite frame. Her knees quickly turned numb. “I must ask. How

will my son save us all?”

The Angel looked at her with an indiscernible gaze. Feathers littered the floor.

“He will deliver you from sin.”

“Yes,” she nodded. “Of course. But how?”

The Angel’s gaze narrowed. “Put your trust in God. Your Son will know his

destiny.”

“But how?” Mary repeated. She must know. This is her son first, the Messiah

second. Her baby first, God’s second. “Please, Angel. I must know.”

The Angel flared their mighty wings. Feathers cascaded like waves. “Your Son

will deliver you all from sin.” They repeated. “He will take them unto Himself and

save you all.”

Mary’s heart stuttered. “Take unto himself? My son, all the sin?” She questioned,

for the first time looking up. Her hands unclasped, resting on her stomach. “Will

he still be welcome in God’s Heaven? Will he be safe?”

The Angel looked at her. Their golden eyes, deep and dark as the cold ocean,

softened. Buttery warmth threatened to encroach within. “Your Son will know

his destiny.” They soothed. “You needn’t worry, for you are God’s favored.”

With a powerful flap of their wings, they soared away, leaving Mary knelt in a

landscape of white feathers. She felt a small kick from her baby.

--------------------------------

It hurts. It tears and rips at her, clawing out of her, desperate for air.

There is so much blood.

Abruptly, the pain ends. She is left hollow, scraped out.

Her son is passed to her moments later. She holds him tight in her arms. Even

through the viscera she can see he is beautiful. Her lovely son, who wails

fiercely as she soothes him.

“Hello, Jesus.” She murmurs wearily, through the tears that fall and mix with

blood. “My holy light. I have met you at last.”

Jesus wails. She soothes him once more. “My darling son.”

A feather flutters from the sky, landing on his head. It stains quickly red

against his soft skin. Mary brushes it off carelessly but feels a weight settle in

her heart.

“My darling son.” She repeats softly. “The Saviour of Mankind. The Messiah.” He

does not respond, so she tries his name instead. This time, he looks at her, eyes

bright and clear.

“Oh, little Jesus.” She whispers tenderly, swaying him gently in rhythm with her

heartbeat. “Do you know your fate?” She holds him closer still; momentary

warmth whisps through her, but it leaves her colder. “You will take our sins unto

yourself.”

She wipes the blood from his cheek. “My little baby.” Jesus grabs her finger,

smiling gummily. Her eyes mist with tears.

“I’m sorry.” She wiggles the finger in his grasp. Guilt surges through as he

giggles sweetly. It echoes.

“Oh, my darling, I'm so sorry.” The weight settles heavily in her chest, now, as she

holds the weight of Jesus’s life. “What fate have I doomed you to? What cruelty

will you face?”

She cries, tears washing the blood from Jesus’s body. “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so

sorry.” Jesus laughs happily as the water rains down.

“Forgive me, God, for I have sinned. I have birthed a babe destined for wrong. I

have birthed a babe destined for death. Oh, God, what have I done?”

Rationale: heavily inspired by the religious side of Tumblr!! it's kinda like, uh. 'how does motherhood shape identity?' 'cause Mary went from 'oh i am a servant of god i shall do everything' to 'this is my child i will love him and cry because i've doomed him.' idk it was hard to write but i hope i did my idea justice thanks