Hambone v3.0

Children Are God’s Gift To Us

I remember telling both of my kids when they were little that they were not mine; they were God’s and that he let their mother and me take care of them.
Children are truly a gift from God; he created them just as he created each of us.
It’s easy for us to conceptualize the love we feel for a parent; for most of us we can feel the love for a spouse or a very close friend. Until you have a child of your own, you cannot fathom the love you can feel for another person.
Once you feel that love, that depth of love, it becomes terrifying to think that you might lose it, whether through an accident (I’m almost there as my oldest is now 16), or through illness of some sort.
Timothy Dalrymple at Patheos writes of his experience with his infant daughter where she suddenly became seriously ill and had to be rushed to the hospital and how much, in retrospect from the calm afterward, he truly hated that experience.

There was no part of me, as we rushed to the emergency room that night, that wished my daughter gone and my freedom restored. Not the slightest part of me thought I should be happier without her. Instead, I knew with terrible certainty that if this small, fragile, quivering creature against my chest were to leave me, she would take all my joy with her. And no part of me would have preferred that she had never come to be, if she could only be for thirteen months and then be no more. Her thirteen months had made my life worth living.

I can truly empathize with him. I can’t imagine life without my sons.
Even if I sometimes think I want to kill ’em.

Posted

in

,

by

wagonburner

Tags:

,

Comments

12 responses to “Children Are God’s Gift To Us”

  1. OletimerLin Avatar
    OletimerLin

    I logically conclude that I must have existed prior to becoming a parent, but I just can’t at all remember what I did with all the extra time.

    WB, 16 is only the beginning. At least when they’re little, you can keep them corralled.

    A couple of weeks ago, it was nearing midnight and my 20 year old hadn’t come home, so I transmited my standard text message, “You OK?” She called and said, “Hi! We’re in San Antonio, but we’ll be back later.” I was like, WTF! you’ve been up since 7AM and you’re gonna drive home from San Antonio after midnight? Dude! Get a room!

    I waited up, but left the lights off so that she wouldn’t know that I did.

    I prolly worry too much, but I think that’s natural. She was with two other friends and they took turns driving or napping in the back seat. She’s been making increasingly better decisions since her troublesome teens. (The unplanned trip to S.A. excepted.)

  2. bob42 Avatar
    bob42

    I logically conclude that I must have existed prior to becoming a parent, but I just can’t at all remember what I did with all the extra time.
    WB, 16 is only the beginning. At least when they’re little, you can keep them corralled.
    A couple of weeks ago, it was nearing midnight and my 20 year old hadn’t come home, so I transmited my standard text message, “You OK?” She called and said, “Hi! We’re in San Antonio, but we’ll be back later.” I was like, WTF! you’ve been up since 7AM and you’re gonna drive home from San Antonio after midnight? Dude! Get a room!
    I waited up, but left the lights off so that she wouldn’t know that I did.
    I prolly worry too much, but I think that’s natural. She was with two other friends and they took turns driving or napping in the back seat. She’s been making increasingly better decisions since her troublesome teens. (The unplanned trip to S.A. excepted.)

  3. Simple Simon Avatar
    Simple Simon

    Ms Simple and I raise our granddaughter. Our angel had a rough first few years and it was necessary to convert a bedroom into a virtual hospital complete with monitors and oxygen generators. We had many scares during that period.

    I remember one night when Angel could not get her breath even with oxygen assistance. We made the decision to go make a late night high speed emergency drive to Memorial Hermann’s Pediatric Emergency Room. Angel sound so bad and I was convinced we were going to lose her on the way.

    I am not a very religous person, but I was talking to God in my head the whole way. I wanted him to take me instead of this wonderful little child. Of course these things never happen, but I would have gladly made the trade if it could have been done.

    Simple

  4. Simple Simon Avatar
    Simple Simon

    Ms Simple and I raise our granddaughter. Our angel had a rough first few years and it was necessary to convert a bedroom into a virtual hospital complete with monitors and oxygen generators. We had many scares during that period.
    I remember one night when Angel could not get her breath even with oxygen assistance. We made the decision to go make a late night high speed emergency drive to Memorial Hermann’s Pediatric Emergency Room. Angel sound so bad and I was convinced we were going to lose her on the way.
    I am not a very religous person, but I was talking to God in my head the whole way. I wanted him to take me instead of this wonderful little child. Of course these things never happen, but I would have gladly made the trade if it could have been done.
    Simple

  5. Tedtam Avatar
    Tedtam

    When Handsome Son was born, it was after a 25 1/2 hour delivery, and so was put into a Level II nursery – not regular and not NICU. They kept him there for two days to run blood cultures to be sure he didn’t contract any illnesses during the long delivery. I sent Lovely Daughter to a brother’s house for safekeeping while I spent all day at the nursery, holding and watching over my son. I had to be careful holding him because an “Indian headdress,” a series of IV tubes with multicolored plugs, in his head. (I realized later that the nurses let me stay during a shift change one day, which was unheard of. I had been so busy holding and gazing at my son that I didn’t even realize that the shift had changed over.) On the third day, I was there, gowned and holding his going-home outfit, waiting for the doctor to clear him for departure. The doctor showed up and had a discussion with a nurse about a baby that had quit breathing during the night. I was impatiently waiting for them to finish so I COULD TAKE MY BABY HOME! Imagine my shock and disappointment to find out that the baby being discussed was my son! We had to leave him there for further testing and observation. I still remember standing at the window with my husband, tears running down both of our faces, gazing at our baby with with IV tubes still running out of his head and sensors on his chest. We finally realized we were just making ourselves miserable and turned away and went home.

    We were finally able to bring him home three days later (on my birthday, as a matter of fact – the best present I’ve ever had). He came with his own electronics, a “portable” (and I use the word loosely) apnea monitor, to which he had to be hooked up whenever he slept. I just put the sensors on him and left them on him all day, turning on the monitor when he fell asleep or might fall asleep.

    The first week of his birth, I was meeting a friend for lunch at a McDonald’s during her lunch hour. Handsome was all tucked up in a blanket, and I was juggling him, the diaper bag, and that 30 pound “portable” monitor. Suddenly the air was pierced by the shrill beeping of the monitor, when meant that he hadn’t breathed in 20 seconds. “Is he breathing?” my friend asked. “I don’t know, I can’t see his chest!” I almost yelled. Instantly we jogged to the McDonald’s doorway and she flung open the doors as I rushed through. We rushed to a nearby table and I practically threw the diaper bag and monitor – still beeping – onto a booth and unwrapped my baby boy. I began doing what the trainer had taught me, wiggling his feet first. “Handsome, wake up! Handsome!” When I got no response, I began waving his arms and legs. “Wake up, wake up, honey!” I began to slap the soles of his feet, getting ready to move up to the chest and his cheeks if necessary. Suddenly, the monitor stopped as it was replaced by another sound – Handsome Son crying.

    I grabbed my little boy and hugged him to my chest, probably stopping some nearby patron from dialing CPS, unsure as to what to do with the crazy mother slapping the crap out of her newborn.

    PS: It turns out that we had a lot of false alarms. We had been warned that some babies are abdomen breathers and not the normal chest breathers. I think I had me an abdomen breather, as I learned to watch my son breathe as the alarm went off, and then log the event into a log for the monitoring company. That first time – I think it might have been real.

  6. Tedtam Avatar
    Tedtam

    When Handsome Son was born, it was after a 25 1/2 hour delivery, and so was put into a Level II nursery – not regular and not NICU. They kept him there for two days to run blood cultures to be sure he didn’t contract any illnesses during the long delivery. I sent Lovely Daughter to a brother’s house for safekeeping while I spent all day at the nursery, holding and watching over my son. I had to be careful holding him because an “Indian headdress,” a series of IV tubes with multicolored plugs, in his head. (I realized later that the nurses let me stay during a shift change one day, which was unheard of. I had been so busy holding and gazing at my son that I didn’t even realize that the shift had changed over.) On the third day, I was there, gowned and holding his going-home outfit, waiting for the doctor to clear him for departure. The doctor showed up and had a discussion with a nurse about a baby that had quit breathing during the night. I was impatiently waiting for them to finish so I COULD TAKE MY BABY HOME! Imagine my shock and disappointment to find out that the baby being discussed was my son! We had to leave him there for further testing and observation. I still remember standing at the window with my husband, tears running down both of our faces, gazing at our baby with with IV tubes still running out of his head and sensors on his chest. We finally realized we were just making ourselves miserable and turned away and went home.
    We were finally able to bring him home three days later (on my birthday, as a matter of fact – the best present I’ve ever had). He came with his own electronics, a “portable” (and I use the word loosely) apnea monitor, to which he had to be hooked up whenever he slept. I just put the sensors on him and left them on him all day, turning on the monitor when he fell asleep or might fall asleep.
    The first week of his birth, I was meeting a friend for lunch at a McDonald’s during her lunch hour. Handsome was all tucked up in a blanket, and I was juggling him, the diaper bag, and that 30 pound “portable” monitor. Suddenly the air was pierced by the shrill beeping of the monitor, when meant that he hadn’t breathed in 20 seconds. “Is he breathing?” my friend asked. “I don’t know, I can’t see his chest!” I almost yelled. Instantly we jogged to the McDonald’s doorway and she flung open the doors as I rushed through. We rushed to a nearby table and I practically threw the diaper bag and monitor – still beeping – onto a booth and unwrapped my baby boy. I began doing what the trainer had taught me, wiggling his feet first. “Handsome, wake up! Handsome!” When I got no response, I began waving his arms and legs. “Wake up, wake up, honey!” I began to slap the soles of his feet, getting ready to move up to the chest and his cheeks if necessary. Suddenly, the monitor stopped as it was replaced by another sound – Handsome Son crying.
    I grabbed my little boy and hugged him to my chest, probably stopping some nearby patron from dialing CPS, unsure as to what to do with the crazy mother slapping the crap out of her newborn.
    PS: It turns out that we had a lot of false alarms. We had been warned that some babies are abdomen breathers and not the normal chest breathers. I think I had me an abdomen breather, as I learned to watch my son breathe as the alarm went off, and then log the event into a log for the monitoring company. That first time – I think it might have been real.

  7. Tedtam Avatar
    Tedtam

    Oh, and the “gift” thing. I remember tucking Lovely into bed one night, and I think she was about five or so, and made the comment “I’m glad God loaned you to me.” “What do you mean, Mommy?” “You are God’s child, and he’s loaning you to me for me to raise. That means I get to love you and teach you everything you need to learn. But you belong to God.” She looked at me with those huge brown doe eyes, “Really?” “Really,” I replied. Her eyes went upward and she said “Wow.” Then I kissed her and crossed her forehead and turned out her lights.

    I would like to think that might have something to do with how well she’s turned out. The idea that she belongs to God, not necessarily that I might have said anything magic.
    I have a

  8. Tedtam Avatar
    Tedtam

    Oh, and the “gift” thing. I remember tucking Lovely into bed one night, and I think she was about five or so, and made the comment “I’m glad God loaned you to me.” “What do you mean, Mommy?” “You are God’s child, and he’s loaning you to me for me to raise. That means I get to love you and teach you everything you need to learn. But you belong to God.” She looked at me with those huge brown doe eyes, “Really?” “Really,” I replied. Her eyes went upward and she said “Wow.” Then I kissed her and crossed her forehead and turned out her lights.
    I would like to think that might have something to do with how well she’s turned out. The idea that she belongs to God, not necessarily that I might have said anything magic.
    I have a

  9. Adee Avatar
    Adee

    I believe the worst pain a parent (biological or adoptive) can experience is the loss of a child, regardless of age or circumstance. One does not expect to bury one’s child. That isn’t the way it is supposed to be. The child buries the parent, or so it says in the book of life.

    Neighbors lost their 32-year-old son to leukemia 20 years ago, and the pain, though softened a bit, is still there. Blessedly, the husband does not remember, he being a victim of Alzheimer’s.

    My cousin, whose husband died of a massive heart attack at age 37 (no warning signs), was pregnant with a daughter when it happened; she lost the baby not long after he died. Their two sons are grown and married and both are PhD chemists. She is pushing 60 now, and the sorrow for her daughter lingers still, filled with wondering “What if?”.

    Lots to think about this topic of offspring on loan from God.

  10. Adee Avatar
    Adee

    I believe the worst pain a parent (biological or adoptive) can experience is the loss of a child, regardless of age or circumstance. One does not expect to bury one’s child. That isn’t the way it is supposed to be. The child buries the parent, or so it says in the book of life.
    Neighbors lost their 32-year-old son to leukemia 20 years ago, and the pain, though softened a bit, is still there. Blessedly, the husband does not remember, he being a victim of Alzheimer’s.
    My cousin, whose husband died of a massive heart attack at age 37 (no warning signs), was pregnant with a daughter when it happened; she lost the baby not long after he died. Their two sons are grown and married and both are PhD chemists. She is pushing 60 now, and the sorrow for her daughter lingers still, filled with wondering “What if?”.
    Lots to think about this topic of offspring on loan from God.

  11. Children Are God’s Gift To Us | Hambone

    […] Excerpt from: Children Are God’s Gift To Us | Hambone […]

  12. Children Are God’s Gift To Us | Hambone

    […] Excerpt from: Children Are God’s Gift To Us | Hambone […]

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.