He hasn’t uttered a single sound, other than content little coos. He stares at me with such sweet intensity, such knowing, that I’m compelled to make sweeping statements like ‘he’s been here before’ or ‘he’s an old soul.’ It’s a totally different experience to the first time, when feisty baby would cry and scream. When, in truth, I too would sometimes cry and scream. Baby 1 and baby 2 are polar opposites.
This fascinates me. How can they be so different, when they are both from the same place, born and raised in exactly the same way? I asked good friend Google. The top hit reveals the odds of being born as 6 x 10100 or 1 in 60000000000000000000000000000000000 00000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 - a number I have no hope of understanding. Apparently, on the journey of complicated calculation that is taken to even reach the answer, ‘That number is not just larger than all of the particles in the universe -- it's larger than all the particles in the universe if each particle were itself a universe.’
I found an animal analogy, for the non-mathematical mind like mine; ‘Imagine there was one life preserver thrown somewhere in some ocean, with exactly one turtle in all of these oceans, swimming underwater somewhere. The probability that you came about is the same as that turtle sticking its head out of the water -- into the middle of that life preserver. On one try.’
Mind-blowing. So I’m back to the sweeping statements. He’s 1 in a million.
He’s 1 in 1 in 60000000000000000000000000000000000 00000000000000000000000000 000000000000000000000000000000000000.
Quotes cited from; http://www.huffingtonpost.com/dr-ali-binazir/probability-being-born_b_877853.html