Took us a great amount of strength to get them into the world

Hear the tender and profound words of Cheryl Tiegs: “Took us a great amount of strength to get them into the world, and for them to be in the world. I think that their little spirits, you know, just said, well, we're going to be there. So it makes it very special because of it.” These words are not spoken in pride, but in reverence. They are the words of a mother who has glimpsed both fragility and triumph, who has felt that life is not given lightly but wrestled into being with courage and mystery. Here Tiegs unveils a truth as old as humanity: that birth is not only a physical act but a spiritual struggle, in which both the parents and the child partake.

The ancients understood this sacred battle. In Greek myth, every hero’s journey began with a perilous birth — Achilles’ mother dipped him into the river Styx, Hercules strangled serpents in his cradle, and even Dionysus was twice-born. These stories echo the truth that to enter the world is no small feat, but a crossing from darkness into light, from the unknown into the seen. When Tiegs speaks of her children’s spirits saying, “we're going to be there,” she gives voice to this ancient understanding: that every soul arrives not by chance, but by a will to exist, by a destiny written before time.

The strength she mentions is not only the labor of the mother, though that is immense, but the collective endurance of parents, family, and even the child itself. For some births are hard-won victories against sickness, risk, and fear. Many who have walked this path know the sleepless nights, the anxious prayers, the waiting hearts. Yet when at last the child arrives, the struggle gives way to awe. It is as if the heavens themselves declared: this one is meant to be here. That is why Tiegs calls it special — not because the child is different from others, but because the path to their arrival revealed the sacredness of every arrival.

History too reminds us of this truth. Consider the story of Elizabeth Blackwell, the first woman to receive a medical degree in the United States. Her mother fought for her children’s education with unyielding determination, believing that their spirits were destined for more than society expected. Against prejudice and trial, Elizabeth was “brought into the world” of medicine — a birth not of flesh but of calling. Her life proves Tiegs’ wisdom: whenever something precious enters the world, it is because a spirit insists, “I will be there,” and strength clears the way.

This quote also reveals the mystery of human will. How often do we look at a life and say, “It was never meant to be,” only to watch that very life shine all the brighter for having overcome the odds? The soul, it seems, does not surrender easily. It clings, it strives, it declares its place. In this we glimpse the heroic resilience not only of parents, but of the children themselves — small yet mighty, fragile yet determined, their very existence a quiet triumph.

The lesson here is that life is not to be taken for granted. Each person you meet is not simply “there” by chance; they are the result of strength, of perseverance, of a spirit’s insistence to enter the world. To remember this is to walk in reverence. It calls us to honor others not lightly, but deeply, knowing that behind every face lies a story of survival, struggle, and sacred determination.

Practical action flows naturally from this truth. Cherish those in your life as special, not only when they achieve greatness, but simply for being here. Tell the children around you that their presence matters, for their spirits once declared they would not be denied. Encourage the weary by reminding them that struggle itself testifies to worth. And above all, let gratitude be your posture — for life, yours and others’, was never easy to bring forth, but costly, precious, and miraculous.

So let Tiegs’ words echo in your heart: “It took strength to get them into the world… their little spirits just said, ‘we’re going to be there.’” May you look upon every life — child, friend, stranger — as a wonder made special through struggle, and may you live your own life with the same fierce determination: to be here, fully, gloriously, as one whose spirit chose to arrive.