My son was born a bit over two months ago. I love him into bits, and it feels surreal to think back how scared I used to be of the idea of having a child. In my twenties I believed it would mean an end to all that is interesting and meaningful. I figured I would be staying anxiously home with a needy creature while life was happening somewhere out there. I believed I would be a horrible mum, so I concluded better not to become one.
I needed God to use all these years between now and then to change my mindset. Now I thank Him for this gift and think there are few things in life comparable to bringing a new person being into this world and helping him grow. I consider a privilege nursing my baby, singing silly songs while changing diapers, kissing him on the nose, having elaborate discussions with him in baby language, and even trying to get him calm down by bouncing for an hour on an exercise ball. Every day, I get to know him more and he learns to trust me more. Our relationship grows.
Relationships are at the heart of my baby’s development. God used the one between me and my husband to bring our son to the world, and our marriage continues to be his home. Furthermore, the tie between our son and us is fundamental for his ability to trust himself or anyone else in the world later on. Finally, he is called to live in a relationship with his Creator, his loving Redeemer, to access eternal life. All of these important relationships we, his parents, are supposed to nurture. Not a menial job, is it?