23 weeks and 1 day. 162 days. 3,888 hours. 233,280 minutes, give or take a few. A human is growing inside of me. Millions of chemical reactions, hundreds of thousands of events, all dependent on other actions and cellular functions. It's nothing short of a miracle.
I have nothing to do with it, really. I don't wake up and say, "Okay, James, today we're going to work on your eyelids. Tomorrow is liver function and Wednesday is going to be the homeostasis of your stomach chemicals." What in the world?! I don't even think about it. I eat, I sleep, I try to do exercises and breathe deeply. I eat some more.
Yes, okay, if given billions and trillions of years, maybe, MAYBE all of the pieces would fit together randomly in order for a simple skin cell to form (much less the complex reactions that need to happen before a brain synapse can shoot off). That small, miniscule chance is enough for some people... and I suppose they are entitled to that. But I'm not comfortable with those odds. It just makes sense to me that there is something bigger and a whole lot more powerful than me or random chance that orchestrates these incredible millisecond miracles.
What really frightens me is that it's not just an "it" that's growing in there. It's a "he" with a soul and a personality and a wit. He will think thoughts and make decisions. He will disobey and laugh. He will have desires and aversions. What really frightens me is that I'm going to fail as his mother. Jim, as wonderful as he is, will fail as his father. It's a sure thing - we will mess up.
My hope rests in the truth that James' life is not in vain. God does not mess up. He does not fail. He's a sure thing in all the right and true ways. I give my son to Him. I give him now, and I pray that I will have the strength to give him back every day of his life. I know that when I see his little face and hold his tiny, soft, wiggly body every shred of motherly instinct will want to make him completely mine and control how his little heart feels and reacts. But I can't. My mind knows that is not the best way. Dear God, make my heart know it, too.
23 weeks. 118 days to go.
4 comments:
Holy cow girl. Just knock me over. I just fell out of my chair. You are so beautiful and God has given you such a heart.
i love you, sweetie. our Father is good to us. He loves us dearly. we'll know that even more in a few months :)
Actually, it didn't take billions and trillions of years. Placental mammals took only(!) about 70 million years to evolve from the mid-Permian to the mid-Jurassic.
But that doesn't really matter. Sara, I love you and you are a beautiful, tender soul and I've got $100 down on you in my "The one mom ever in the history of the universe who might not actually screw things up because she is such an uncontainable geyser of kind-hearted goodwill and peace" office pool.
oh man, I just need you to know that this brough tears to my eyes. I struggle with those same fears and thoughts. And especially letting them go. Thanks for the thanks for the wonderful, encouraging meditations on beautiful knittings of babies in the womb and the One whose beautiful hands do the knitting. :)
-Elise
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