The Gift of You

Our sweet baby.

God’s precious gift to our world. I will never be deserving of the gift of you. 

When I first became pregnant with our daughter, I must have questioned a thousand times what I could have possibly done to deserve her. I fought so much guilt because of it, after having dealt with years of infertility, not feeling worthy of the blessing I was receiving. It’s crazy how easy it is to do this—to keep ourselves from fully experiencing the joy of an incredible blessing because of guilt or shame. Having our daughter has been humbling and healing in too many ways to count. Through her I’ve seen so many sides of myself I never knew existed and never would have taken the time to explore before. She’s not only exposed those areas of improvement, but she’s allowed me to discover so many strengths hidden behind insecurities deep within me. 

Parenthood is a weird mix of dozens of emotions. On a daily basis, I feel pride and joy for who she is, am overwhelmed by her presence, become frustrated by her stubbornness, am in awe of her determination, feel sadness for the moments with her that have passed while simultaneously looking forward to the moments to come. I sometimes feel my heart could burst just from not knowing what to do with my love for her—I want to squeeze her so tight and never stop kissing her perfectly squishable cheeks while at the same time being desperate for five minutes to myself. I could watch her do the most ordinary things and take so much pride in her ability to do them, stare at a tiny hand or foot for the length of an evening because she is the most perfect work of art I’ve ever had the pleasure of studying, and I marvel at the fact that not that long ago, I didn’t think she could ever exist.

I will never be deserving of the precious gift of parenthood—the opportunity to experience life and love in its purest form—and I acknowledge that it’s a gift that not everyone is able to experience. I know that with every moment of joy I find in my daughter, there are so many people who are aching for what I have. I will never forget the twinges of pain I used to feel each time I’d see a mother holding her child, or how deeply my heart longed to know what it was like to hold a child of my own. Those darker moments of infertility may never fully go away, and I pray that those memories will only fuel my thankfulness for what I’ve been given, my ability to nurture and love my family, and my empathy for those who are experiencing the same kind of pain.

It took me some time to catch up, time to understand that even miracles can have a few rough edges, time to not give myself grief whenever I would lose my patience with her out of fear that it proved I wasn’t worthy or that I wasn’t good enough for this kind of gift. It took me time to realize that maybe none of us are fully deserving of the blessings we receive, but we can either accept that, or we can use every day of our lives to work on becoming someone who is.

I’m sure there will be many days ahead where I’ll become frustrated with her, or lose my patience, or yell. She’s still so small, yet already, I see how strong-willed she can be, and how hard she can struggle against the things she doesn’t want to do. Life with her isn’t perfect, but it’s those moments of imperfection that make those still, quiet moments with her so beautiful. Tomorrow may hold its own challenges, but today, I hold my tiny reminder of the beauty that still exists in this world close to my heart, and I breathe in the smell of her sweet skin and I kiss her perfectly squishable cheeks, and I try to soak up every detail of this perfect moment with her. I am not deserving of such an exquisite moment as this. But for her, I will try my best to become someone who is.

We chose to believe that God would give; today we rejoice that God has given.