A couple days ago, that same feeling resurfaced. As I walked to my desk (the furthest walk of anyone working on my floor), I kept remarking to my colleagues that waiting for my son to be born was like Christmas Eve all over again, but this one was extended. My 37-week pregnant wife was ready to have our kid outside of her so she could meet him and hug and kiss him. My hope was just to get through the week at work prior to his birth, and of course, get my flu shot. We were looking forward to the weekend to clean the apartment, get last minute items, and to meet with friends for various things. It was a perfect weekend that never happened!
Last Thursday, Megan and I went into the hospital for individual appointments and did not return home (full-time) until Monday afternoon. I was sitting in the waiting area of my doctor's appointment (the bane of my existence), and I get a call from my wife that her doctor wants to induce her. WHAT!?!?!? After an hour of my life spent in being in my doctor's office (the band of my existence) and not seeing my doctor, I rushed to see Megan. Thankfully one of my dearest Chicago friends was willing to drive me home to get our baby bags, get some food, and back to the hospital. The next 35 hours was more of a waiting game than anything. Megan's mom, who was planning to come in town for a full week, and my parents drove out from Ohio Friday morning and made it to Chicago by noon. Friday was basically a whole day of doctors and nurses coming in and out trying to essentially from Megan's body to have the baby since it was not really ready.
The "party" didn't pick up until 10 pm Friday when the efforts of our doctors intensified Megan's contractions while she was getting an epidural. (For those who do not know what an epidural is, it is the drug that numbs her lower extremities so she won't feel pain during delivery. The anesthesiologist was pretty numb to Megan as she writhed in pain, grabbing my hand during every contraction. I'm glad I was there. Initially, the nurse tried to kick me out of the room during the process, and in doing so, called me "the boyfriend". [Insert Death Stare and Wedding Ring flashing]
At about 12:30/45, the doctor on call checked in with Megan again, and said, "We start pushing in an hour". OK. At this point in the night, I was incredibly tired. I tried to stay up as a watchman takes watch over a city, but when they gave me a defined length of time before the main event, I figured it was best to get a power nap in. An hour later the nurses came in, I jumped up, ate a Cliff bar and a granola bar, and started stretching. It was gametime! After about 20-25 minutes of pushing, Tyrome III (Tre) was born on November 11th at 2:54 am, weighing at 5 lbs and 12.7 oz and measuring just under 20 inches. He was here! Christmas had come and my first child, a son, was born. He is beautiful. Megan handed him to me, and I proclaimed, "This is my beloved son in whom I am well pleased".
The culmination of a nine-month journey filled with joy, anxiety, sadness, and grace had reached its climactic end. Megan and I were parents. My initial feeling is "this is unreal and "what just happened". It is hard to explain how overwhelmed I feel with love for Tre. All I can think about is God's love for us. We get so consumed by a works-based, humanistic mentality of salvation, that somehow doing this or that will make God love us more. But the reality is Tre had not lifted a finger for me and still has yet to do anything, but as soon as he came out, I love him and waned to do whatever I could to give him a fighting chance in this world.
What if we saw God like that? What if we saw Him less like a warden and more like a father? A warden cares nothing about his prisoners, but a father wants to give his kids the world. What if we saw God less like a mystical vending machine and more like a relational, loving father? The former gives out based what goes in, but a loving father desires relationship and gives out of desire to seek his kids' best. How do you see God? Dare I say that our faith goes to and fro based on how we answer that question. Dare I say our spirituality rise or dies with how we answer that question.
Marriage and child-rearing were never meant to be ends within themselves or for each other, but they were meant to point us to the gospel, and in doing so, they point us to God. When we are pointed to God, He is glorified. All of life is meant to be for the glory of God. I praise God for my wife and my son!
No comments:
Post a Comment