I love it when I have to live up to my own words. OK not always. A couple posts ago I was pondering on how life isn't about being comfortable in seasons, but about learning how to navigate through them and transition between them well. I thought it was a pretty good statement, it even got a mention on a good friend's facebook page.
Now I get to live it.
Yesterday morning (12:57am) our son, Hezekiah Reign, was born. He had an incredible birth. He was born at home, in our bedroom, about as natural as you can get. My wife will be blogging the birth story on her blog at sometime in the near future, so keep checking. I just want to say how absolutely awesome home birth is. It was us, our wonderful midwife Sandy (who thankfully made it in time!), and our dear friend Liz. It was intimate, peaceful, joyful, loving, and dare i say fun. There was intensity, for sure, but a good kind of intensity. There was nothing scary about it. There was nothing invasive about it. The atmosphere was full of honor and respect and praise. When Melinda was holding back on pushing while the last half a centimeter opened up Sandy matched the intensity of the moment with her prayer. She prayed over the baby as soon as it was out. Words can't describe how amazing it was. After an herbal bath I got to cuddle up with Melinda and the baby in our own bed, in our own house. Despite the kid pumping out meconium like there's no tomorrow, it was super peaceful and cozy. Barring any complications, all of our kids will be born at home. There really is nothing like it.
Now the season change. Like most, even if you know it's coming you really can't see it coming. To put it bluntly, being a father of two is hard. I grew up an only child. I was thirteen when my sister was born, so I was already pretty independent and it wasn't a huge transition for me. Zemirah, on the other hand, is just under two. While she loves Kiah and is great with him, I can tell that even at that young there's a transition she's going through. So far she's doing great, but my father radar is going off saying "sensitive time, sensitive time!" While not necessarily a make-or-break situation, I'm acutely aware that I could easily hurt her heart by prioritizing the baby over her. Which is tough because Kiah's in a sensitive spot, too, and I really want to bond with him in his first few days of life. So far it's been good. I feel I've been balancing well, and I've tried to not separate it so much into "Zemi time" and "Kiah time," but more spend time with them together. But, as Jason Upton puts it, "it ain't easy, learning to love like You."
So I've found myself encouraging myself with my own words. I keep singing the line from Hallelujah by Jake Hamilton that goes "to live Your dream is quite the cost, just don't look back, and don't get lost." I spend some time in Philippians 3, one of my anchor-verses. Pressing on, forgetting what's behind and straining toward what's ahead. Striving to lay hold of that for which Christ laid hold of me. Because if, when I'm rocking Zemi to sleep at night, I stay in the place of trying to hold onto the time when she was my only child, I'll stay rooted in the past. I'll become the 40 year-old high school football star. And because, as a father, I determine the culture of our household, we'll all stay rooted in the past, viewing those days as the golden days. I can't do that. Though the transition feels, at times, like I'm just hanging on for dear life, I know we can shift from being a family of three to a family of four in a way where everyone is honored, no one loses out or gets pushed aside, and our love for each other grows and deepens. The future just keeps getting brighter.
So that's where I'm at tonight. Working on giving my son the best start to life possible, walking with my daughter through her first major season change, and encouraging my wife as her body shifts seasons, too. Though it's hard, I wouldn't trade it for the world.
Good night,
PB
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