A Grand Perspective

The day before Nathaniel was born, I managed to read Carolyn Mahaney’s Feminine Appeal: Seven Virtues of a Godly Wife and Mother. Perhaps next to, if not more important than, all the books I read on baby care, this book was a must prior to motherhood.

During night time feedings these days, I find myself skimming parts of it for encouragement. Despair can get the best of you when your baby’s cry turns into a piercing one, and every time Nathaniel decides to try my patience, I seem to be playing a continual game of “process of elimination.” And when you think you’ve eliminated all possibilities, yet the crying persists, frustration gradually seeps into your veins.

Nathaniel already feels heavier in my arms, and it has only been two and a half weeks. He’s learned to turn his head, survey his surroundings, even let out the occasional coo. Though I anticipate the day he learns to smile or communicate with me, I ought to remember Mahaney’s words below, which compel me to hold onto him evermore tightly, as I contemplate the transience of his newborn days:

“Have you numbered your days lately? If we pause to count the remaining days we have with our children, we will realize how few there are. This awareness will help to safeguard us from neglecting a tender love.” (p. 60)

And of course, the biggest perspective I need for motherhood is the truth below.

“What is the ultimate purpose of a phileo kind of love? It is nothing less than the salvation of our children’s souls. This is the chief end of mothering. Our goal is not that our children be happy, fulfilled, and successful. Granted, we may desire these things for them. But our highest objective should be that our children would repent from their sins, put their trust in Jesus Christ, and reflect the gospel to the world around them… While the salvation of our children is our highest aim, our tender love is not sufficient for the task. Only the Holy Spirit is able to reveal the truth of the gospel. However, our tender love can be an instrument in God’s hands.” (P. 61)

Oh how I long for Nathaniel to grow up and learn to love the Lord—to find his assurance in his faith in Jesus Christ, his joy in living the Christian life, his whole life’s desire to be a godly one.

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,
the fruit of the womb a reward.
Like arrows in the hand of a warrior
are the children of one’s youth.

Psalm 127:3-4

So teach us to number our days
that we may get a heart of wisdom.
Return, O Lord! How long?
Have pity on your servants!
Satisfy us in the morning with your steadfast love,
that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

Psalm 90:12-14

Motherhood, Week 1: At a Glance

Nestled on the family room couch, I have Nathaniel sleeping in my arms. In the afternoons, during his naps, I could very well put him in the bassinet, but I love having him in my arms—to feel his small, warm body against mine and study that precious, peaceful look on his face. I feel the faint movements of his chest against mine. The occasional smirk (though I know it’s only a reflex at this point). His arms flapping about at the slightest sound.

It’s amazing what can transpire in a week. In any ordinary week the past year, I might have completed some errands, managed to tend to some household chores, or finished an assignment or studying for a test. But since Mother’s Day, my husband and I had brought a miracle into this world and suffered through a week of what many experienced parents have warned us about—sleep deprivation.

Though I itch to document every detail of the labour and the complete journey of my first week as a mother—I write, knowing that, at any moment, Nathaniel may waken and so I must be selective regarding what thoughts to record.

Especially those first few days, it is easy to be overcome with emotion—elation as the doctor pulls him out and to suddenly see a fully grown baby in the arms of the nurse, suspended in the air above me—tears swell inside me as well as disbelief. Then the first night, being the inexperienced mother that I am (you can read all the books you can and still feel unprepared…), not knowing Nathaniel just yet, frustration gradually takes over. I worry. Worry about the mucous in his nostrils. His hesitation in feeding. His piercing cry. When my husband goes home to get sleep that first night, and I am alone in Room 237 at the hospital, against the background of other crying newborns, I utter many prayers. Please God, teach baby to suck. Please God, make him sleep. Please God, help me do this. That first night, I sang as many songs as I could for the baby—and in my mind, it worked. At “My Jesus I Love Thee…” or “I Lift My Eyes Up…” the baby would be soothed. And then I tell myself, I can do this, I can do this.

Nathaniel is now eight days old. The hope, comfort, and consolation that I have is that it gets better with each day. Each morning and afternoon and night is a chance to learn something new about Nathaniel. What his habits are. What he dislikes. What he likes. And every day is a chance for another little victory. And though externally circumstances may appear to be routine—feed, diaper change, play, sleep—motherhood is an internal battle: you start the morning gathering up the determination to do things better today, to be more efficient with time, to pay a little more attention to the husband (I had realized last night, that since the baby had been born, I hadn’t even been able to give the husband a hug), to prepare yourself a little more for the long trek ahead—and to remember to fit God into it all. Because PRAYER is so critical at this time—time alone with God, and time with the husband with God. Therein lays the power. To be entrusted with this life by the One above (Nathaniel is Hebrew for “God has given”)—so that all those images that run through the imagination can be rightly anchored.

As for marriage. The week prior to Nathaniel’s birth, the husband and I went on as many “dates” as possible. We watched Iron Man, ate out, and went for Gelato and Chinese desserts at around midnight— activities we knew we wouldn’t be able to do once the baby came. Three and a half years of marriage and I’m more in love with my husband than I have ever been. I rarely tire from hearing him laugh while watching television, going for evening walks around the neighborhood, feeling his embrace, chatting with him at night before both of us fall asleep.

And then the baby comes and the REAL test is—how is your marriage when both of you are running on virtually no sleep? How is your temperament? How do you fare in the patience department? Are you still expressing kindness and consideration toward one another?

Are you still exercising the same love--if not deeper? And if not--PRAY. God is the source of the ultimate sacrificial love. Without Christ as the example, we are left to our own selfish instincts. We need the Spirit to rouse us, to remind us of the beauty, the miracle of all that is happening. For as much as the nights seem to drag as Nathaniel wakes every hour or two for attention--deep down, I know these days will not last long and I must savour them just as much as I long for them to pass.

The husband is watching Nathaniel now. He went to the gym this morning, and now, it’s a chance for me to have some alone time. Our new family of three is a little more settled this week—compared to the desperation and chaos of last week. We’ve somewhat established a routine—though we’re still learning together. The husband only has one more week of vacation and then he’s back to work—which is why I want this week to go by as slowly as possible.

Better get some rest before Nathaniel’s next feeding.