The blessings of a father come in many shapes and sizes, From small and insubstantial, to monumental and life changing. For men the challenge is in seeing them, recognizing them for what they are. My latest blessing has been the birth of my first child. This is the blessing I want to tell you about.
From the moment I found out Christy was pregnant I wanted a son. All I could think about was the time we would spend together. I imagined us fishing together, seated along the bank of some secluded pond. Bobbers floating in the water, him walking around chasing bugs when the fish didn’t bite. I imagined the questions he would ask as we sat there, “why is the sky blue”, or “do the birds get wet when it rains?” I imagined Christy, mad when I brought him home, muddy and wet from falling in the water. I thought of playing football in the yard, and watching games together on TV. All these thoughts filled my mind….till the day of the ultrasound.
“It’s a girl,” the nurse said without hesitation. Christy seemed elated. A little girl, what is that? I had feared those words for the past few months. “I don’t know anything about little girls,” I told Christy on the ride home. But she was happy. Over the next few months I searched for a book on fathering girls. I had never even spent any time with a little girl. Maybe I sound like I didn’t want a girl at all; it was not that, I was afraid of them.
We arrived at the hospital early in the morning. I was proud of the way I had handled the notice Christy had given me. It was very early and I was asleep. She woke me and said it was time. I dressed and gathered up her things. We hopped in the truck and drove to the hospital. It was like we were driving to a friend’s house. No rush, no fear, just a nice drive. We sat in her room for hours, waiting, watching the little monitor for the contractions. It was almost one when I finally left her for a few moments to get some lunch, and almost four before the labor really started. Christy took it like a champ. Though she was tiring quickly, she performed better than I could have imagined. In my mind I was still worried about a little girl, what was I going to do? Will I break her? What if she doesn’t like me? All these questions played over and over in my head as I held Christy’s hand and tried to keep her calm during her labor. As Shelby, we decided to name her Shelby, slowly poked her head out, my mind was ablaze with fear, and my heart pounding in my chest. A girl, a little girl, what am I going to do?...till.
I cut the cord almost without noticing. Christy’s breathing had slowed a bit but I was still worried about her. Shelby was out and the nurses were cleaning her off. Happy, yet still somewhat afraid for both my wife’s safety, and my fear of daughters, I kissed my wife and tols her I loved her. Someone touched me on the shoulder and handed me something. It was small, yet I had to use two hands they said. “Always support the head,” someone told me. I looked down to see the warm object I held in my arms. As I looked down I saw the blankets wrapped around a small body. A white cotton cap was over it’s tiny head. It was red faced and crying softly, tired from the ordeal it had just gone through. And then it slowly opened its eyes.
I don’t know if she could see me when she opened her eyes and looked at me, but I sure saw her. As she looked up into my face, tears streamed out of my eyes and rolled down my face. My mind went numb and my heart ached as this little girl seemed to look into my soul, and she pulled my heart from my chest. My fear was suddenly squeezed away and in its place was put a love that I didn’t think was possible. I held her for what seemed like years, just looking down at her, then I handed her to my wife. Christy was happy; she cried and smiled at the same time. She was proud herself and her little girl and I was proud of her too. We had a daughter, and things would never be the same.
Now Shelby is nine months old. She smiles and laughs, sometimes for no apparent reason. She can crawl all over the house, and loves to torment our dogs. She cries a bit, and seems to eat all the time. But what I used to look at as work, feedings, diapering, bathing babies, now I do with a sense of love and a smile. I have her picture here on the wall next to my desk. Three of them actually, one of her sitting on the ground beneath a tree, red nose and cheeks as she sees her first snow, another in her swing, smiling that silly smile she has, and third, in the tub with bubble bath in the water and bubbles covering her head and face. Every time I look at them, no matter how hard my day has been, I see my little blessing. My tension lessens, my face smiles, and I receive the blessings of a father.
