The Selflessness and Selfishness of Parenthood

This morning I stayed home from church with Kensington, who has a virus called EM Minor (or something like that).  Her most noticeable symptom was a splotchy rash all over her body, but that has mostly died down, leaving her with just a lingering fever and green, yucky nose.  

I have to say, though, that I enjoy it when the kids are sick and all they want to do is SCHNUGGLE.  It's the best.  Kensington didn't want me to put her down this morning, so after I gave her a soothing bath and dressed her in some cozy clothes, I laid her on my shoulder, and we spent some quality time together.  Honestly, she has got to be the cutest baby ever.  (But aren't all babies when they're your own??)  She was really not feeling well because she never lifted her head up.  But the best part was when she started SINGING!  She sang this sweet little contented song with no real words (because she doesn't know any), but it was the happiest tune I've ever heard.  I think it was angel-song.

That got me thinking: why do people WAIT to have kids??  I hear things like: "We'll have them when our lives are more in order," or when it's more "convenient," or "when we feel more ready."  I've said those things myself.  And I think there is actually A LOT to be ready for.  And, true, having kids does bring an added measure of disorder and inconvenience.  But GOSH- let's not undervalue the SUBSTANCE they bring!

When I found out that I was pregnant with Raleigh, (our first child, albeit UNPLANNED), I cried for a week and felt like my life, as I thought it would and should be, was OVER.  I called my mom, and the first thing she said to me was, "Oh, Dionne, it's going to be so HARD."  (thanks, mom, you were right.)  I felt like Dallas and I hadn't had enough time to establish ourselves as a couple and as a separate family group- now we were adding a third party into the mix.  And she was COLICKY.  And a TERRIBLE SLEEPER.  And Dallas was working the night/early morning shift at UPS and going to school full-time.  And I gained 50 LBS.  But somehow, amid the constant stress and sticky, stinky mess that came with Sweet Raleigh-Kroggies, our life really began to take on an unexplainable substance that was sweeter than the sticky-ness, brighter than our basement apartment, and even stronger than the stink coming from Raleigh's lil' bum.  We love those whom we serve.  And parenthood brings countless opportunity for that, don't-cha think?  I'm thinking that regardless of all the time we spend together with our families, it's the times that we spend in service of one another that have the most substance, therefore, binding us together through our experience of mortality.

Consider this: a newborn baby does not have the ability to care for itself.  We, as parents, act in a literal Christlike manner as we care for our children, doing those things for them that they cannot do for themselves- if only they could.  We act in proxy.  We form lasting, eternal bonds with them in the prosaic, daily life.  The hum-drum now seems heavenly.  Life takes on more meaning.  (If only that thought could last with us when the nitty-gritty gets down-and-dirty and we forget.)  

A few months ago, I could feel this Christlike love as a recipient of its goodness.  It was in the form of MY MOTHER.  Dallas was supposed to go out of town for work for two weeks, and my mom had scheduled a trip to come visit all of us girls while he was gone and help me out a little.  But the day she came, I had been to the doctor and was diagnosed with INFLUENZA- not the yucky-stomach-kind, but the lay-in-bed-and-eat-only-applesauce-with-a-104-degree-fever-for-ten-days-and-lose-14-lbs-while-you're-at-it variety.  And she had come to PLAY this time!  We were all disappointed, and I was mostly out-of-it, but she got right to work, LOVING our girls, CLEANING the house (and all of my germs everywhere), doing LAUNDRY, wiping noses- and four-year-old BUMS, COOKING, and taking care of me.  And basically doing everything I would have been doing if I had been well.  And not only that, but doing for me what Dallas would have been doing if he was in town.  AND never making me feel like it was a burden for her at all.  I know it was a big sacrifice of her time out here to VACATION, but will I remember it forever?  YES!  And does that experience remind me that GOD KNOWS ME and knows beforehand all of my needs?  I think so.  Does He forget about us as soon as we have kids and leave it all up to the trusty parents??  NO!  I feel a greater measure of His interest in my life because He doesn't want me to ruin these kids!

I have a lot more to say about parenthood.  But for now I will leave just one thought: I remember when I was younger hearing Andrea Houghtaling say that she LOVED being pregnant.  (What?  Are you kidding me?  Read on.)  She said, "It's nine months that I get to spend with my baby that no one else does."  Aw, cute!  I cannot second that- because the last pregnancy I experienced with Choobers was pretty bad from day one: lots of crawling on the floor because I couldn't walk.  I couldn't wait to pop her outta there for everyone else to enjoy besides just me.  BUT I am starting to learn that those late-night "inconveniences" when I am ripped from my sleep to help a crying baby or 4- or 6- year old (is she really six?-holy cow) are some of the sweetest memories I have of our little critters.  They've only become as sweet as my outlook.

And THAT, my readers, is all I have to say about populating the world right now.  And, no, I am not pregnant.