What can anyone really say about the experience of becoming a parent, for the first time or the fifth? I just went through the experience of having my second, and I have been trying to think about how I would put it down on paper. Ruth, my first, was an unreal moment in my life. Every single part of her birth was a discovering, an awakening to this whole new, and bigger, world that I had never imagined before. From walking into the hospital room up until we came down the elevator with our little, our tiny, helpless, frail, weak, beautiful baby, Sara and I were beginning to understand that our lives as we knew it were gone, and that was amazing.
We came home with Ruth, and our apartment looked different to me; it was as though a guest we had been expecting at any moment for our whole lives had finally arrived, and with her coming, the room she was in lit up. Sara was in a bad way for the first few weeks after Ruth came, and it was not easy. She was really worried when the time began to draw close for us to go into the hospital for our second time. We both were; during the days after we came home I felt alone, looking at my beautiful wife laying in bed, with all those drugs flooding her senses. I think that Sara, because of how hard the first pregnancy was, had begun to rethink having another child so soon.
The second, our other little angel, Sophie, has been a wonderful experience in a very different way. First, we knew a little more about what to expect. But more importantly, the actual labor experience was as different as night and day. Sara was up and walking around the same day that Sophie was born. With Ruth, Sara did not leave the hospital bed for a full day, if not two. So, having her alert, and active, made the experience of a new family member infinitely more enjoyable for me.
Beyond Sara’s quick return to normalcy, watching Ruth become a big sister overnight was a joy for us; Ruth almost immediately fell in love with little Sophie, and wanted to help her with everything. There were a few moments when she first walked into the hospital room that we could see uncertainty on her face. The questions were very clear. Who is mommy holding? Why can’t mommy hold me, instead of holding her? This only lasted a few minutes. Now that we are home, Ruth loves nothing more than to look into Sophie’s crib and ooh and ahh, making certain that her little sister has everything that she could possibly need. We, as parents, are now running interference between the two of them so that Ruth doesn’t “help” too much.
Ruth’s sweetness is not limited to Sophie; she also has shown a great concern for her mother. When Sara winces, or a small groan escapes as some small pain flares up, Ruth is immediately there, her head cocked slightly to the side and her eyes wide with concern. Her little lisping voice asks, “Mommy kay?” If mommy wasn’t “kay” before that, she certainly was after such a sweet salve.
I feel like I haven’t even mentioned the star of this show, Sophie herself. She sleeps, she eats, the natural processes go on and on. She rarely cries, and only when she is hungry; that cry is so sweet, a little hoarse and cracked. She looks like her big sister did, and yet she also looks so completely like herself. Sara says she looks like her daddy; I hope not. I don’t see it. This little one seems as mild mannered as we could ask, although when she’s hungry, watch out! That mouth will latch onto anything that is nearby. She eats more than her older sister, Sophie’s already grown so much. She might, possibly, be a chubby baby (I know, Sara and I shouldn’t be able to have chubby babies!).
Now that we, as a little family of four, are in our house alone and as on our own as we can be, living three hours away from family, Sara and I are slightly overwhelmed with the daunting task of trying to raise two children. It can’t be that hard, right? There have been millions, billions, or trillions of people who have gone before us and raised multiple children. But it is still frightening, standing side by side and looking in front of us, and what? What is in our future? More children? We hope so.
We thank God for this wonderful blessing. His providence has been the underlying story behind this whole story. We look down at our little girls at night and pray that we will glorify God in the way that we raise them. We search the Scriptures for our guidance, and aid. We have prayed for hours for them. God, in his greatness, stands over time and moves the wheels of history. But He also is present in the small things, the normal events of life. We can put our faith in Him for all these things.
As we are His children, first and foremost, we have willingly given our children to Him. It is a frightening thing, trusting in another Being; it is especially difficult when we consider that we are trusting our children to another Being. But to be honest, we are not able to protect our children, in the sense that there is so much outside of our ability to stop. We are not, after all, promised even another breath. If I cannot keep my own body breathing, how can I honestly protect my precious little children? God has always been our provider, and our strength. As we go on into the future, we trust in the God who has saved us from our sinful life. Thank God that we have a hope that is beyond this frail world, where any ‘control’ that we might have is imagined, a lie. He is our hope, and we pray that as Ruth and Sophie grow, we can show them that He is their only hope as well.
