I got ten minutes of uninterrupted quiet time this morning. We had to take both vehicles to church, since Matt had to work at 1:00 and would be leaving church before we did. Since I almost never get to drive my own car anymore (with three kids, I get the old crappy van), I drove it to church and the kids rode in the van with Matt. So, anyway, ten minutes of quiet time. I got to thinking about how Peanut is going to be ten months old on Thursday, and how close that is to being a year old. Holy crap, how did that happen?!!!!
Well, it all started with a second pink line. (That's where it'll start in my story, anyway.) Great and Holy Friday, 11:00 p.m., after weeks of charting my basal a.m. temperature, I peed on a stick, knowing that it would be positive. Called my dad, reminded him of my promise as he picked up the phone ("I told you you'd be the second person to know . . ."), then laughed when he finally caught on that he was going to be a grandpa again! Just a couple days later, on Pascha, indulging in leftovers from the last night's feast after Agape Vespers as is the tradition in our parish, I started feeling crampy as Peanut, a tiny little ball of cells at that point, found a nice cozy spot in my uterus to burrow in and get comfortable. Weeks went on. I sobbed when I heard her heartbeat for the first time (and I'm tearing up as I write this now), was thrilled the first time I felt her move (that NEVER got old), felt crazy nervous/excited when my water started trickling, went out of my mind with joy as I held her for the first time (right where I sleep every night! I'm sitting in that very spot right now), then sobbed again when I had to leave her in the NICU. (Maybe someday I will put my birth story on here. I've neglected writing it because I a.) was out of it as most women in labor are, I think, and b.) I didn't ever look at the clock, on purpose, so I have no idea what the sequence of the events are. I remember the events, just not in order. Makes it hard to write a story.)
I can remember reading a book, given to me by a friend, that had a chapter for every week of prenatal development. Every Friday, I read the next chapter that said how big my baby was and what parts were developing at that time. Her heart started beating only a couple of weeks after I knew she was in there! She developed a spleen right around that time, too. Not that that's particularly special to most people, but . . .
It should be!
Babies are miracles! Every part of them!
And they are being conceived, developed, and born at the rate of hundreds of thousands a day. In 2010, worldwide, an average of 251 babies were born every minute! Thousands of babies are being born in the time that it takes me to write this blog post. And miracles all.
I sit here and I stare at my own little miracle, sleeping in her bed right next to mine. I can see her chest rise and fall and her eyes move under her lids as she dreams. The eyes that began to develop shortly after her heart did. The more I sit here and think and write, the more amazed I am.
So often we forget that we are "fearfully and wonderfully made," as the psalmist David says. We are not miracles by accident. We did not just develop, though that's the terminology we use when we're talking about the science of it. We do not just develop; we are made. By a Maker. By THE Maker, Who made the heavens and the earth in the very beginning. By the One who performed the first miracle: "'Let there be light,' and there was light." But, too often, we overlook the miraculous nature of events because they are common. We think of miracles as standing out. Which they often do. When Christ gave sight to the blind, made the lame to walk, cleansed lepers, gave hearing to the deaf, and raised the dead, it stood out. People noticed because it was not ordinary. They didn't see it every day.
Babies are miracles. Common, ordinary, everyday miracles. But miraculous just the same. Babies grow into children, who grow into adults. And all of them are miraculous too. Put aside the eye rolls and snide comments that come to mind when you think of people whom you can't stand, and pay attention to that statement. ALL of us are miraculous. The whole of the psalmist David's statement is: "I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made." He understood. He paid attention and saw past the common-ness.
Babies are common. Life is common. But they are miraculous just the same.
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It's been awhile since I posted last. For those of you who don't know, Matt did get a job. Two, in fact. They are both considered part-time, but they keep him pretty busy. Now that the school year has started, I am babysitting again. So, we're doing ok. Taking advantage of the county's hospitality, but it won't be forever.. The kids are doing well too, despite the upheaval they experienced. Thanks to all of you for your prayers. God is good.
