Today's guest post is brought to you by none other than my very own dad, who is the pastor of a church in Newport News, VA called Cornerstone Community Church, and is also a High School Bible teacher and the father of seven children.
Enjoy!
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It’s been over 32 years since our first born son, Kevin,
came into this world. Even though it's
been some time since that totally unique event in our lives, I still have
vivid, wonderful memories that I will always cherish.  |
| Photo used courtesy of Creative Commons user badgreeb RECORDS |
The day my wife called me at work and told me
I was gonna be a dad was one of the best moments of my life. I was going to be a father and that child
would have my blood running in their veins. My DNA, my name, and their children
and many generations to come would share some of that unique inheritance.
In retrospect, the days, weeks and months leading up to the
actual birth seem to be a time-lapse video that still plays in my mind. It all happened so fast. Ironically, it never seems to be that way as
you’re living in “real time.”
I can
remember the non-stop thoughts/fears about providing for the many needs that
this child will have, wondering about what that baby was going to look like – birth
defects (this was before today’s ‘uber’
detailed ultrasound)? Long? Short? Blue eyes? Green eyes? Brown eyes? etc.,
etc., ad nauseum!
From my perspective as a dad, one of the most amazing and
miraculous things I witnessed was the continual change in my wife’s body as
this child grew inside of her. What was
even more amazing was how she seemed to intuitively cooperate and understand
the change, as though this was something that God had “hard coded” into her
womanhood. Men are meant to be observers
of this physical/spiritual/emotional metamorphosis, we are meant to be
mystified by this, be awed by it, but never to fully comprehend it.
What I remember most are the days leading up to the birth,
the day of the birth, and bringing baby home. When the due date arrived, every
contraction was filled with anticipation that maybe this one is “show
time.” That took several days, but when
it happened, we were ready. Mom had her
bags packed, we were Lamaze educated and knew what to expect...kind of.
The child birth class prepared us for the procedures
involved in child birth, but nothing could have prepared me for the emotions I
was going to experience. As soon as
Kevin came out of his mom, I lost all my ability to hold back the tears. I defy any man to be “macho” while watching
this unbelievable miracle unfold before your eyes. I wept, heaved and sighed,
and never cared less about how others thought about me. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him as I gave
him a bath almost immediately after his mom cuddled and breast fed him.
I will never forget the trip home from the hospital. I have never been so totally paranoid. Every car I saw was a potential careless
assailant. They had no idea how sacred
this child was. It occurred to me that I
might have something in my DNA that is “hyper”-protective.
As I grew up, my parents often reminded me of an event that took place when
I was an infant. While my mom and dad were driving down Santa Monica Blvd.,
with me, an infant in the back seat, my dad became upset about the guy behind
them who kept honking his horn because my dad wasn’t moving fast enough for
him. My dad, a very large man, stopped
the car walked back to the horn honking driver and told him “either stop the
honking or get ready for a beating.”
Who was that guy? He was none other than the famous FrankSinatra. (You go, Dad!)
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