Happy birthday, Ben.
I never really thought this day would come. Twenty years. Has it really been that long since that first day of spring in 1988, when we brought you home from the hospital (all seven pounds of you)?
Those were the days Dad always wore free T-shirts, I wore sizes in the single digits, and you wore diapers up to your armpits. I'll never forget the months leading up to your birth, though the ones right after are quite blurry.
Dad and I always talked of wanting four children, at least one boy and one girl, and wanted to wait a full year as a married couple before babies came along. Well, four months after our wedding, I thought I was pregnant. Selfishly I thought it was too soon because I was so enjoying having Dad all to myself. But when the test was negative, I was disappointed, and immediately stopped birth control. (You're old enough to hear this.) Three months later, it was for real. I remember coming out of the doctor's office, tapping an elderly lady on the leg, beaming, "I'm going to be a mother!" I told everyone in my path, and when I got back to the car, I just wept in gratitude. Your life was the answer to one of my deepest prayers. Of course I told Dad right away. Of course he doubted me at first (as he did with every successive pregnancy because he sees zillions of dollar signs and just can't process). But by nightfall we were wrapped in the glowing wonder and fear of becoming parents.
Back in those days, women didn't usually find out their baby's gender unless there was a problem. That was fine with me. I wanted some surprise. But I also wanted a boy first since I had always wanted an older brother. It was in carrying you that I realized it was okay to go ahead and ask God for what I want specifically because He knows anyway. I couldn't honestly say, "It doesn't matter," when people asked, "Do you want a boy or a girl?" I also added to my prayer that I'd love our little boy to have blue eyes.
You were due in mid-April. But, true to your nature, you just couldn't wait. (I was given a baby shower on the night of March 20th, and the next morning, things happened.) When it came time to deliver you (drug-free), the doctor said you were breech. You would have to turn or be turned, or else come by C-section. The doctor was Hindi, and we wanted God to show Himself powerful to her and to us as well. We said, "May we have 15 minutes? We want to pray that God turns him." "Sure!" she said, "but really, there is no room in there, and not much time. If he doesn't turn, we will have to take him."
She left the room and Dad prayed with me as contractions grew stronger. A simple prayer, as Dad's always are. "Father, please turn the baby." As soon as he said, "Amen," I felt an unmistakable flip in my womb. Could it be? How? Truly, was there room in the "inn"? The doctor returned, examined me and said, "I can't believe this. I feel a head." I said, "We asked God to turn our baby, and He did." A few minutes later, at 5 pm sharp, you were born.
"He's so beautiful! Oh, Paul, he is so beautiful! Now I know what it means that we are made in the image of God! Oh, Paul, he is so beautiful. Let's have another one!" (Drug free and yet delirious was I.) I couldn't stop the tears. Before long we were surrounded with family and friends to admire our precious gift. Our little boy.
Ben, I look back and see that God made you quick to repent in the womb. Literally, to change direction when you're headed the wrong way. The baby Ben gave many clues into the man you'd become: healthy, determined, adventurous, punctual, social, handsome. And over the years, though you have occasionally turned your will against ours and God's, you have been quick to repent. I cherish the times you've come to us in tears over your sin, fully aware of the foolishness of your choice, your inability to change yourself, and your humility to ask God for forgiveness. I've appreciated your candor (later, not in the moment) about wanting to try what's out there in the world, as if you're missing something, because it tells me you're human AND you're not hiding your desires behind a mask. It gives me raw material to pray about, that's for sure! You may not always be wise, but you are genuine. You may not always choose the right path first, but you quickly repent.
I haven't been the ideal mother I set out to be. There have been many times in your teens that you and I have not seen eye to eye, and you wished for a different family, and sometimes I wished you had the perfect mother. But then God would gently remind me of something someone told me when you were born, knowing there'd be not-so-ideal days. "Your baby is the perfect baby for you, and you are the perfect mother for him." I'm so thankful God gave you to me. I'm sorry for the times my actions seem to disprove it, but I love you very, very much and hope the next 20 years are even better.
Have a great time with your friends tonight, you tall, dark and handsome man, you!
Love,
Mom
PS Save me some dessert. I think I've earned it:)
I never really thought this day would come. Twenty years. Has it really been that long since that first day of spring in 1988, when we brought you home from the hospital (all seven pounds of you)?
Those were the days Dad always wore free T-shirts, I wore sizes in the single digits, and you wore diapers up to your armpits. I'll never forget the months leading up to your birth, though the ones right after are quite blurry.
Dad and I always talked of wanting four children, at least one boy and one girl, and wanted to wait a full year as a married couple before babies came along. Well, four months after our wedding, I thought I was pregnant. Selfishly I thought it was too soon because I was so enjoying having Dad all to myself. But when the test was negative, I was disappointed, and immediately stopped birth control. (You're old enough to hear this.) Three months later, it was for real. I remember coming out of the doctor's office, tapping an elderly lady on the leg, beaming, "I'm going to be a mother!" I told everyone in my path, and when I got back to the car, I just wept in gratitude. Your life was the answer to one of my deepest prayers. Of course I told Dad right away. Of course he doubted me at first (as he did with every successive pregnancy because he sees zillions of dollar signs and just can't process). But by nightfall we were wrapped in the glowing wonder and fear of becoming parents.
Back in those days, women didn't usually find out their baby's gender unless there was a problem. That was fine with me. I wanted some surprise. But I also wanted a boy first since I had always wanted an older brother. It was in carrying you that I realized it was okay to go ahead and ask God for what I want specifically because He knows anyway. I couldn't honestly say, "It doesn't matter," when people asked, "Do you want a boy or a girl?" I also added to my prayer that I'd love our little boy to have blue eyes.
You were due in mid-April. But, true to your nature, you just couldn't wait. (I was given a baby shower on the night of March 20th, and the next morning, things happened.) When it came time to deliver you (drug-free), the doctor said you were breech. You would have to turn or be turned, or else come by C-section. The doctor was Hindi, and we wanted God to show Himself powerful to her and to us as well. We said, "May we have 15 minutes? We want to pray that God turns him." "Sure!" she said, "but really, there is no room in there, and not much time. If he doesn't turn, we will have to take him."
She left the room and Dad prayed with me as contractions grew stronger. A simple prayer, as Dad's always are. "Father, please turn the baby." As soon as he said, "Amen," I felt an unmistakable flip in my womb. Could it be? How? Truly, was there room in the "inn"? The doctor returned, examined me and said, "I can't believe this. I feel a head." I said, "We asked God to turn our baby, and He did." A few minutes later, at 5 pm sharp, you were born.
"He's so beautiful! Oh, Paul, he is so beautiful! Now I know what it means that we are made in the image of God! Oh, Paul, he is so beautiful. Let's have another one!" (Drug free and yet delirious was I.) I couldn't stop the tears. Before long we were surrounded with family and friends to admire our precious gift. Our little boy.
Ben, I look back and see that God made you quick to repent in the womb. Literally, to change direction when you're headed the wrong way. The baby Ben gave many clues into the man you'd become: healthy, determined, adventurous, punctual, social, handsome. And over the years, though you have occasionally turned your will against ours and God's, you have been quick to repent. I cherish the times you've come to us in tears over your sin, fully aware of the foolishness of your choice, your inability to change yourself, and your humility to ask God for forgiveness. I've appreciated your candor (later, not in the moment) about wanting to try what's out there in the world, as if you're missing something, because it tells me you're human AND you're not hiding your desires behind a mask. It gives me raw material to pray about, that's for sure! You may not always be wise, but you are genuine. You may not always choose the right path first, but you quickly repent.
I haven't been the ideal mother I set out to be. There have been many times in your teens that you and I have not seen eye to eye, and you wished for a different family, and sometimes I wished you had the perfect mother. But then God would gently remind me of something someone told me when you were born, knowing there'd be not-so-ideal days. "Your baby is the perfect baby for you, and you are the perfect mother for him." I'm so thankful God gave you to me. I'm sorry for the times my actions seem to disprove it, but I love you very, very much and hope the next 20 years are even better.
Have a great time with your friends tonight, you tall, dark and handsome man, you!
Love,
Mom
PS Save me some dessert. I think I've earned it:)
5 comments:
OK, here's yet another strange thing we have in common... MY firstborn was also born the first day of spring (though it was on the 20th in 1996), she was also breech, and though we prayed and tried to have her turned, she was wedged in tight, and I did have to have a C-section. (Thankfully, all the rest were able to be VBAC's). She was very small, 6 lbs 4 oz, and also had jaundice, for which I ALSO placed her in the sunshine (in a Longaberger basket). She had some gagging issues and would seem to stop breathing, and it got to the point that I would sleep sitting up holding her all night, terrified she would die in her sleep. God spoke to my heart in the midst of one of those tearful all-nighters and assured me He loved her even more than I did, and that he would hold her himself as I slept. After that she was able to sleep in her bassinet, and I in my bed. She grew to be wonderfully healthy, never having a physical issue of any kind. I too am blessed...but thought I just HAD to tell you about this, yet ANOTHER striking parallel in our lives!!
Thank you,Zo.
Truly special post.
Betty G
Jessi, this is really weird how much we have in common! Was your daughter full-term? I'm sure if Ben had come on his due date, he would have been 9 pounds with no turning room. I think there's a telling connection between a person's birth and their character and life story, I really do!
Betty, thank you.
Zo
what a sweet tribute to your son. happy birthday, Ben!
Actually, Zo, my daughter was almost 2 weeks early because I had been dialated for a little while but nothing was changing b/c she was so wedged in, and they didn't want to take a chance on me going into labor, knowing I could not deliver that way.
I definitely agree there does seem to be connections with my kids birth stories and their lives.
Post a Comment