Birth Day

Today some friends of ours had a precious, glorious, 9 pound 13 ounce, chunk of a gorgeous baby boy.  He is so beautiful, in fact, that when I held him I got caught up in the moment and I started thinking about how wonderful it would be to do this again.  I mean, to birth another baby, to have that moment of laying eyes on a long-awaited child for the first time, to have the visitors come admire him.  I mean, having babies is just some seriously incredible business.

I have three.  I have birthed three babies, all with their unique birth stories, their amazing little newborn quirks, their personalities blossoming in different ways as they grow.  It’s beautiful to be a part of it all.

But, then you get a little older.

And, you have three kids.

And you are just about getting to the point where you can be in public again without breaking into a cold sweat.

I had to remind myself of all these things as I was gazing lovingly into this amazing baby boy’s perfect little face.  And, suddenly I realized that what I was longing for wasn’t necessarily a fourth child.  I was longing for those first moments of a baby’s life, the intimacy and joy and awesome humility and gratefulness that comes to you on the day you birth a baby.

But, I will likely never experience that again.  And, I’m okay with that.

Because I really do feel like, at least at this point and until God shows me otherwise, our family is complete.

Wishing for the another birth day experience is sort of like a girl wanting a wedding really bad, so bad in fact that she is actually more excited about the wedding day than she is the marriage.

And, that’s really what it’s like for me now, mother of three, about to turn 37.  I mean, I loved holding and loving on that little dark-haired doll today, and I was also pleased to leave him with his mama, knowing that she will be the one doing all the hard work in the coming months and years.  She will be staying up nights, worrying about fevers, praying that he sleeps and freaking out when he sleeps.  She has earned the title Mama and will continue to earn it for the rest of his life.  And, I am so, so happy for her.

I didn’t leave feeling empty or like I was missing out.  I can continue to enjoy my friends’ big amazing birth days, and I can go home to my getting-bigger kids and enjoy taking them to the movies.

Every phase is breath-taking.

So, if I never again find myself in the position of laying eyes on my child for the first time, I am really okay with that.  Because just like after every wedding there is a marriage to take care of, after every birth, there are plenty of jobs that only a mother can do, and do well.  And I feel like I’ve had my fair share of those late night nursing marathons (as precious as they are).

If I turn up pregnant next week, God will get a really good chuckle out of this post.

Love to my friends and their amazing miracle from God.  I am almost completely convinced that I’m glad it’s you and not me.  But, if I knock on your door in the middle of the night asking to rock him, you won’t be too annoyed, will you?