Learning My Children

  It wasn't even ten days into the month of January in 2013 when I began to wonder. It was this little thought, this whisper of hope that said "Maybe, maybe..." that I barely dared to listen to.

  A few weeks later my wondering, my hoping, my praying all received the answer I wanted more than anything else: Yes.

  Yes. I was pregnant. We were going to have a baby.

  Over the months that followed we found out more about that baby. We found that it was healthy, we found that it was a boy, we found that the name that truly felt like a perfect fit was Judah. But there were other things, too, that I found. Things I didn't expect to be a part of this process of pregnancy the way I had expected the check-up's, ultrasound, and baby name books.

  I knew him.

  I felt like I knew who he was, this tiny, unborn human being. I knew things about his personality. The way he behaved in utero told me things about him. It would have seemed like a ridiculous leap for me to assume the things I assumed...except they all proved to be true. Every feeling, every conclusion- it is all Judah, to a T.

  When he was born and we began to get to know him, there was very little about him that surprised me. Because I'd known him, deeply and clearly, for months already. Perhaps it was intuition, perhaps it was because he is so much like me that I simply understood the things about him that are like myself. But either way, I knew him from before the time he was born.

  And then in July of last summer, when Judah was ten months old, I began to wonder again.

  Again I was so afraid to listen to that whisper, to dream that it may be right. I was so afraid that that feeling would be wrong. Yet my heart didn't care- I began to love that baby before I even knew if there was actually a baby there to love. And loving it made the wondering all the more terrifying.

  There was a clear moment, when I stood in the kitchen of the house we stayed in on our family vacation to the ocean, when I remember thinking "I think I am pregnant. And if I am pregnant, I think it's a girl."

  A week later we found out that we were, indeed, pregnant with our second child. Four months later we found out that she is, indeed, a girl. The name that I had in mind for her from that moment in the kitchen has proven to be the one that feels like a perfect fit for her to both Arthur and I. Yet something is different this time.

  This time, I don't know who this baby is.

  Maybe it's because I have a toddler that occupies much of my thought, time, and energy, which means I have less time to sit and notice the little things this unborn baby girl does. Maybe it's because her personality will prove to be very different from mine, and less intuitive for me to understand.

  But I don't know her.

  I have felt her presence since the beginning. I have loved her fiercely from the beginning. But I do not know who she is. I have no idea. I wonder about it, and it remains a mystery.

  Already, she is harder to parent. Already, she takes more work, more thought.

  Already I can tell that with her, I will have to observe more. I will have to listen carefully. I will have to notice the little things she does, and try to discover why. I will have to learn who she is, carefully and intentionally and constantly.

  With Judah, I just know. I can just tell. I see him so clearly, we understand each other so instinctively, we communicate so naturally. I get how he thinks, because I think that way, too.

  With her, I will need to be a student.

  And yes, that will be challenging in so many ways. I can already tell that I will have to really work at noticing, at listening, at watching- not assuming that she is like me, or that she is like Judah, but really learning who SHE is. That will take time. It will take work, and it will take care, and it will take practice.

  She is worth it.

  I fully believe that it is beautiful how differently God makes us. He takes the time to make us unique, and that is incredible. I want to notice that in my children. I want to appreciate the ways they are different- from each other, from me, from the norm- and help them appreciate those things as well. Not because they themselves are any better than anyone else, but all to point to a loving, creative God Who made them.

  I want to parent each child according to that child, not my pre-determined formulas. I want to love them in a way that is clear to them, teach them in a way that makes sense to them, disciple them in a way that truly helps them grow. This will have to be done differently for each of them, because all of our children will not be the same. Already, they are not the same.

  Yes, it will take a lot of time. It will take a lot of thought. I will make a lot of mistakes.

  They are worth it.

  I will fail. I will learn. I will depend on the God Who made my children in the first place, Who gave them these unique gifts and challenges, and Who made me as well. I will get better.

  You are worth it, my little ones.