Eleven years ago today, my son was born. After fifteen long hours of labor, a very still, very blue little boy made his way into the world without making a sound. The doctor rubbed him vigorously, disentangled the abnormally long umbilical cord from around his body and handed my beautiful baby boy over to a nurse, who performed the preliminaries, let me hold him briefly, and then whisked him off to the special care nursery. His Apgar scores were low and his muscle tone pitiful. It would be an hour or two before I would see him again and be assured that he would be okay. When we went in to see him, he had a “cake pan” on his head (delivering oxygen) and he looked so tiny and vulnerable. While he was just under a healthy eight pounds, his entry into the world was scary. If it hadn’t been for the wise doctor who delivered him (and who talked a very determined woman into an epidural), we very well could have lost him. The umbilical cord was around his little body and the prolonged labor was weakening him and causing his heart rate to drop. Once the epidural was in place, the labor progressed quickly and our baby was born within the hour. As we gazed at him in his bassinette in the hospital nursery, we stroked his tiny feet and thanked God for saving his life.
Throughout my pregnancy with our son, we knew that God had plans for this baby. We had several scares of threatening miscarriage and yet peace prevailed in our hearts. God gave us the strongest sense that everything would be fine, even when it seemed to defy logic. At one point in my pregnancy, my brother put his hand on my burgeoning belly and prayed for this child, voicing his sincere conviction that this child was going to have a special purpose designed by God. A few months into this rollercoaster pregnancy, my husband came to me and said that he knew what our baby’s name was. When he told me, I somewhat doubtfully said, “maybe”. A few days later, standing in line at the pharmacy to get some medication for our older daughter, who was ill, I picked up a baby name book and idly thumbed through it. I turned to the name chosen by my husband and read: “Noah—meaning peace, comfort and rest.” A shiver went up my spine and a thrill through my spirit. “Okay, Lord, I get it. His name is Noah.” My husband and I had often talked about the unusual peace we felt during all of the stress of this uncertain pregnancy. Although we had not been told the sex of this baby, I felt pretty sure at that point that it was indeed a boy…and his name was Noah.
Noah has lived in our house and our hearts for eleven years now, and I am still filled with wonder at God’s hand upon him. He is a special boy, with many talents and a heart full of love for his Creator. He is a talented musician, both on drums and guitar, a gifted actor and a whiz with computers. He is creative, artistic and intelligent. He is sensitive, and reads his mom like a book. He seems to sense whenever I am down, or worried, or sad. He loves to help me with whatever task I am working on, and loves to spend time with his dad. Is he perfect? Of course not…just ask his sisters! But what gives me the most joy is watching his growing love for his Heavenly Father. Three years ago, he gave his life to Jesus and I’ve watched him grow in his Christian walk and learn to share his faith with others. It really doesn’t matter to me whether he grows up to be a famous musician or movie director, or a scientist who cures cancer. It only matters that he stays on the path of truth and never strays from his commitment to Christ. If he accomplishes this task, then the words of Proverbs 23 will hold true for me: “My son, if your heart is wise, then my heart will be glad…my inmost being will rejoice when your lips speak what is right…The father of a righteous man has great joy; he who has a wise son delights in him.”
Those tiny feet we lovingly stroked are but a distant memory…I can now slip my feet into my son’s shoes to run to the mailbox. He almost reaches my shoulder and his voice no longer sounds like his sisters’ on the phone. He can do so many things, some of them far better than I can. But he is still my little boy, and I will always hold that picture of him in my heart. I know that God has great plans for him, and it thrills me to know that I get to be a part of raising this little boy into a great man of God. So, today, on his eleventh birthday, I will say a prayer, thanking God for letting me be Noah’s mom, and giving me the awesome gift of sharing in his life. Happy birthday, my precious son…your mom loves you very much.
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