Twenty two years ago I was a kid thinking I had an idea of what I was heading for. Give birth, bring home a baby and voila I am a mom.
But birth was truly and unabashedly labor and the pain of doing this "natural" thing made clear the curse of Genesis 3. There were concerns and labor and suffering dragged on for over ten hours. The time arrived and many many health care professionals were on hand to ensure that the first air she breathed was clean.
And then she breathed, and I will never be the same. For at that moment a life entered the world of humanity. At that moment part of me was born, and until we all one day walk with Jesus, I cling to the promise that He loves her more than I; but, at times I am not sure that is possible.To carry a child and give birth is by far the greatest gift God gave me apart from my salvation and the love of my husband. That is the saddest part of the feminist movement - the stealing of the gift of femininity. I can do something so beyond what any man can ever dream. I give life. And in my weaker vessel, I do more than any man could ever accomplish.
So to her who was my first, I pray she will one day be the joyful mother of many. To the one who at 2 years old lined up the jelly jars in the grocery cart then rocked them to sleep because she has always loved babies, I beg the Lord to surround her with the gift of motherhood.
Until then I counsel and pray, talk and pray; laugh with and pray for because these are rough waters we are treading, and He who made us promises only His love.
To the girl who taught me that this side of heaven I will never again live fully for myself - I love you. Because at the moment of your birth 22 years ago a love so amazing poured over me. A love that is God given because the love makes me want to hold you here, but powerfully compels me to let you go. A love that gives me the smallest taste of what it means, "God gave His only Son."
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