Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,
the fruit of the womb a reward.
-Psalm 127:3
My life was forever changed one month ago.
The momentous event began on the evening of March 17th, our sixth wedding anniversary. We were settling down for the night and had almost drifted off to sleep. Mare Cris said something was happening and rushed to the bathroom. Her water had broken. I quickly gathered up a few things for our trip to the hospital, energized by an adrenaline rush.
Cris was admitted to the hospital around midnight. She endured over 16 hours of labor before the decision was made to do a C-section. Our big, beautiful boy was born on the evening of March 18th.
Life has been a bit of a blur since then. Clark seems to get heavier and stronger every day. He regularly broadcasts his discomfort or discontent with his tiny but deceptively powerful lungs and vocal cords. I pray these same instruments will one day speak grace and truth to those around him.
Clark is now sleeping on the bed here in my home office. His slumber is somehow peaceful and vigorous at the same time. This relatively quiet moment provides a chance for his mother to sleep and me to write.
I wanted to take a few moments to write at least a short post–to have a “snapshot” of words, thoughts, and memories that I can come back to in the future.
I think what has surprised me most is how naturally this has all come. My wife is the ate (eldest sister) of her family, so taking care of babies was familiar to her. It’s the opposite for me. I didn’t grow up with a baby in the house–I was the baby. I didn’t know how well I would handle being a first-time father. But holding my son and changing diapers is now second nature to me, as if I’ve been doing it all my life.
We’ve anticipated Clark’s arrival for months, and now he’s here. The divine disruption in our normal routine has been an adjustment, but I wouldn’t have it any other way (I know my wife feels the same way).
Babies are often called bundles of joy, and that they are. But I also consider Clark to be a bundle of grace–a gift I will never deserve.
I love you, my son.
