New Life
Lindsay, my wife, is pregnant.
I want to write about this because it seems important to record my thoughts and feelings about this singular unfolding of change in my life. But now that I start, I hardly feel like I can get past those first five words, "Lindsay, my wife, is pregnant." Those who know me might be surprised if they realized how nonplussed I really am.
We are not surprised by this gift. We have been open to life, and welcoming of it, and God has seen fit to bless us with it. In the beginning of our months of trying, sitting one Sunday next to the windows depicting the Blessed Annunciation, we heard a sermon which included a phrase that settled on my mind, "In God's good time." I remembered that, again and again, as we waited and prayed and hoped to share in God's re-creation.
And now God's good time has come. Change has come with it, a change that is singular not because we will only have one child - God willing - but because we will only have one first child. As life unfolds and takes shape in the warmth and hospitality of Lindsay's womb, slowly and certainly the lives of our custom are being pulled apart and broken down, themselves passing through a tremulous re-creation.
It occurred to me, after my sister's procreative experience, that childbearing is cruciform. On of the consequences of sin, we are told, is that God "will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children (Gen 3:16)." And Jesus tells us "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit (John 2:5)." Lindsay has welcomed life, and in welcoming it has accepted the self-sacrifice and literal self-giving of childbearing, and when the great moment arrives her graciousness will be answered with manifold pain, and, passing out of the pain, a child. She will love that child, not less, but more because of the sacrifice she endured for its sake. To be born of water and Spirit, as Jesus reveals necessary, is to be Baptized and Confirmed. To be baptized is to be united to Christ's death - a suffering death of crucifixion - and so to his Resurrection; and to be confirmed is to be sealed by the Holy Spirit. The love and sacrifice of the bearer is to be likened to the love and sacrifice of Jesus; and the continued self-emptying love of the mother is to be likened to the abiding and steadfast love of the Father, through the Holy Spirit.
These changes, this self-giving and self-sacrifice, and the promise of pain in childbearing and labor, are all evident to Lindsay. She, by gift of her womanhood, feels directly the nature of the changes taking place in our lives. My experience is altogether different; more vague and uncertain. I expect to be taken off my feet in the delivery room, and, again, to be nonplussed.
At times, I feel normal, like there is no difference this month from last. In fleeting moments I feel the weight of responsibility and duty. The other day I looked into the mirror and suddenly saw, as if through the eyes of a young child, the face of a 'dad'. The more real it seems, the more love and gratitude I feel, and I am reminded again and again of a different sense of hope than I am familiar with. Sometimes I even feel relieved, especially when I step back and regard, like a beautiful vista, how remarkable Lindsay is; she will be a wonderful mother. When I think of our child, of what it might face and what we might face because of it, of who it might be and who we might become, one thing I never feel is fear.
God is good.
I want to write about this because it seems important to record my thoughts and feelings about this singular unfolding of change in my life. But now that I start, I hardly feel like I can get past those first five words, "Lindsay, my wife, is pregnant." Those who know me might be surprised if they realized how nonplussed I really am.
We are not surprised by this gift. We have been open to life, and welcoming of it, and God has seen fit to bless us with it. In the beginning of our months of trying, sitting one Sunday next to the windows depicting the Blessed Annunciation, we heard a sermon which included a phrase that settled on my mind, "In God's good time." I remembered that, again and again, as we waited and prayed and hoped to share in God's re-creation.
And now God's good time has come. Change has come with it, a change that is singular not because we will only have one child - God willing - but because we will only have one first child. As life unfolds and takes shape in the warmth and hospitality of Lindsay's womb, slowly and certainly the lives of our custom are being pulled apart and broken down, themselves passing through a tremulous re-creation.
It occurred to me, after my sister's procreative experience, that childbearing is cruciform. On of the consequences of sin, we are told, is that God "will greatly increase your pangs in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children (Gen 3:16)." And Jesus tells us "Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit (John 2:5)." Lindsay has welcomed life, and in welcoming it has accepted the self-sacrifice and literal self-giving of childbearing, and when the great moment arrives her graciousness will be answered with manifold pain, and, passing out of the pain, a child. She will love that child, not less, but more because of the sacrifice she endured for its sake. To be born of water and Spirit, as Jesus reveals necessary, is to be Baptized and Confirmed. To be baptized is to be united to Christ's death - a suffering death of crucifixion - and so to his Resurrection; and to be confirmed is to be sealed by the Holy Spirit. The love and sacrifice of the bearer is to be likened to the love and sacrifice of Jesus; and the continued self-emptying love of the mother is to be likened to the abiding and steadfast love of the Father, through the Holy Spirit.
These changes, this self-giving and self-sacrifice, and the promise of pain in childbearing and labor, are all evident to Lindsay. She, by gift of her womanhood, feels directly the nature of the changes taking place in our lives. My experience is altogether different; more vague and uncertain. I expect to be taken off my feet in the delivery room, and, again, to be nonplussed.
At times, I feel normal, like there is no difference this month from last. In fleeting moments I feel the weight of responsibility and duty. The other day I looked into the mirror and suddenly saw, as if through the eyes of a young child, the face of a 'dad'. The more real it seems, the more love and gratitude I feel, and I am reminded again and again of a different sense of hope than I am familiar with. Sometimes I even feel relieved, especially when I step back and regard, like a beautiful vista, how remarkable Lindsay is; she will be a wonderful mother. When I think of our child, of what it might face and what we might face because of it, of who it might be and who we might become, one thing I never feel is fear.
God is good.
posted by Eric at 6:31 PM
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