“How will I make sure she really knows how important and loved she is, while she lives in this world?” I stared up at the ceiling and leaned back on the air mattress on the floor of her room. That very morning I had suddenly ran from my bedroom at 5:30 am, gathering personal effects, groceries, and home goods into bags as I rushed to the car. She was coming.
Pushing open their front door, I heard my brother and sister-in-law in the other room. I peeked my head in to check in, and read, “Pain” on her face, and the letters spelling “Love” on his, as he held her hands through each ripping contraction. They had been there all night.
“Is the midwife coming soon?” I asked, concerned.
“She’s on her way now.” My brother replied.
My instincts plainly told me “cook food.” They always say that to me, when other people are under pressure. I just cook food. I stumbled into the kitchen wincing back burning tears and that awful associated twinge in the jaw. I wanted to be so strong, but in the meantime, I could I hear and see the agony—and do nothing. Oh how I wanted to do something: to take it away.
Hours passed. Now I leaned in close on the bed beside my brother and wife, as little Erin was brought into our world. Following the commands of the midwife like a disciplined recruit, I used my hands, voice, feet, smile, strength, and breathe to be on deck. When my sister needed to make noise, I did too. When she breathed loud and fast, I breathed loud and slow. Soon, I saw the top of a perfect little head. How was it possible? Then with terrifying strength and the motivation of life itself, I watched in absolute disbelief as a miniature human fell into the hands of the waiting. The tiniest of faces, fingers, toes, vulnerability, and human exactness had arrived, just like that.
Tears of joy and wonder involuntarily choked through me, and I looked at my brother still holding onto his wife tightly from behind on the bed smoothing back the hair from her heated forehead, and saw his tears were also catching the early morning light from the window above. The skilled hands of the midwife moved and directed quickly as she beamed at Jessica, “I knew you would be an efficient mother. You didn’t even mess around for a minute, there. Here, hold your little girl.” I sat back on my heels on the sheets in absolute awe as I saw the tiny form lifted towards the eager hands and joyous eyes of her gentle mother.
Baby Erin is in our world now. She will live as a girl, grow as a teen, and walk as a woman. And as if that wasn’t enough by itself, she will someday feel the pressure to be “someone.” She may even wonder if she is “good enough.” As I stared at the ceiling in the moonlight that night, I knew what I wanted to tell her. The moment she became a life endowed with who she is, was the moment she became “enough.” That was the moment she became “someone.” No matter who she is or what she does, God Himself chose her to be here for Him to love, save, and hold always. Through that, He has defined her. No shadow of peer pressure can darken that. No cutting words that burn to memory can erase that. And absolutely nothing can separate her from the zealous love that has always been meant for her. As I closed my eyes, I realized I don’t have to do something to make her understand. He will. However, I will tell her—and I will tell her how honored I was to be there the day she was born.
I'm not sure if is is because I am prego or because GOd just uses your words to bless and encourage, but you, Johanna, are an encouragement to me. I felt as if I was there and experiencing the miraculous birth of sweet baby Erin. Oh, how it makes me wait, pray, and hope our baby will continue to grow and be nurtured. Thank you Lord for all your bountiful, beautiful blessings!
ReplyDeleteThank you sooooo much, my dear! I am praying many blessings on you and your sweet baby! Love, ~Johanna www.thinkibility.blogspot.com
DeleteI cried and was blessed and will pay it forward.
ReplyDeleteGrace, Mercy, and Peace to you my sweet precious friend!!
Thank you, Mrs. Martz! Moments like the one I shared are certainly the ones that bring us together while we fall apart...with our tears! :) Love, Johanna www.thinkibility.com
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