When I had my first baby I was convinced I was going to die. Bill kindly said, “You are not going to die, Honey.” Yet, I made him promise to sue the hospital once I did, so he would have enough money to raise the baby without me. Seriously, he had to solemnly swear and I wasn’t kidding. Pain makes me think crazy thoughts, and if I am in enough pain, those thoughts come right out of my mouth.

A few hours after the hand-on-the-Bible swearing ceremony, I was holding my daughter in my arms. I did not die. Her eyes were wide open and she very seriously gazed into my soul. No crying, just this intense stare. As I held her gaze, I felt I had known her my entire life. Like she was a part of me. Like we had never been apart. I was holding a part of my core being in my arms.

My heart expanded in that moment, like when the Grinch’s grew three sizes and broke the frame. Suddenly, there was more love than I could ever imagine beating in my chest. I knew I would give my life for this little human in my arms. The love was instant and monumental. It engulfed my world in one second flat. No strings attached. Whatever I thought love was before that moment, morphed into an overwhelming and deep reverence. It was a holy moment. A sacred space.

Traumatic pain aside, the very messy and real process of childbirth was not fun. Not at all. The breathing I’d learned in birthing class went out the window pretty early on. I was trying so hard to do it right for hours and hours I was nearly hyperventilating. Yet, after walking the hospital for 24 hours, and all the difficulty of transition, this little infant was cradled in my arms just as calm and sweet as she could be.

When it came time for our second to be born I was seriously concerned. I told Bill I didn’t think there was any way I could love this one as much I did our first one. I thought we would have to pretend. Then I gazed into the eyes of my son, and my heart grew three more sizes. I cannot describe the expansion of love in words, because it is bigger than words. Another part of my soul, in my arms. Another tiny person I had known forever. Surely, my heart could not take any more enlarging without an explosion. But then I had baby 3 and then baby 4 and each time love expanded to make more room.

It is still a mystery to me how it happens. How can it be possible to love this deeply and profoundly? It is an all-consuming feeling that reaches into your spirit and creates a tenderness and a softness that changes the way you look at everything. Literally…EVERYTHING. It is humbling and such a gratefulness rises up for this tiny human who transforms your life, just by existing and looking into your eyes.

Now I am sitting at the hospital waiting on my first grandson to make an appearance. I already know my heart is going to grow today. I already know that deep inside of me there will be a recognition of this little person. I already know I will cry tears of joy and that I will embrace my own son as his world shifts under his feet. The miracle of birth is an exquisite example of pain and beauty, of mess and perfection, of all the humanness of life and the spirit of God melded together. It is grace personified. Heaven touches earth.

In this day and time, the joy that comes to greet us is a welcome respite from the news. This baby is a fresh breath…for the future. To transfer the love forward to the next generation. A carrier of hope. His name is Shepherd William Gunnin. One who guides and directs. A protector. And he is already loved beyond measure.  

P.S. I am smitten. Truly overwhelmed with the fact that, once again, my heart has expanded its capacity to love. He has tiny little toes and his hands are beautiful with perfect little nails. His eyes are deep and alert. His nose is wide and cute as a button. His little mouth is perfect and his chin is so very sweet. 7 lbs. 7 oz. – 21 inches long – Born at 12:30 pm on October 19, 2023. Pictures to come later!