G'day all. It's now two weeks since Shelby entered the world, and life is still chaotic . . . If I was to describe life with a newborn, I would say that it is a rather dreamlike state. The past - that rather tame life of 'just us" before she was born seems a long time ago and kind of distant. The future - that time (hopefully) when she'll be walking, talking, becoming a teenager, possibly getting married - seems incredibly distant. So you're just left with the present. Which consists of minimal (and interrupted) sleep, changing nappies, and a vague sensation that the house looks like a mess.
There's emotions, frustration, tears - but for an hour or two every day, Shelby opens her eyes, and you see those very small but very dark blue eyes looking at you. And, oddly enough, when that happens, it all seems worth it.
But as Rach and I both agreed, it's actually rather lucky that babies are difficult to look after when they're little, otherwise, you'd never want them to grow up at all.
On a more objective note, Shelby is doing quite well and healthy. Not that that matters, because I'd look after her even if she was sick. But it's nicer that she's healthy.
The name Shelby . . . despite its origins in a Christian romance novel (which I only discovered after Shelby was born) . . . has turned out to be a bit of a winner and nobody has given us strange looks when we introduce her to people.
And, ladies and gentlemen, it is a girl.
Shelby Alyse Hodge
Weight: 7 lbs 8 oz
Born: 3.02 a.m., Tuesday 13th June
Need I say more?
I am currently reading For the Children's Sake by Susan Schaeffer Macaulay. It is such a fascinating and thought-provoking book on how educating a child looks and should be. I really encourage anyone who has influence over a child at any stage to read it. It truly makes you rethink the way we view children.
I just have to share this beautiful quote I found this afternoon.
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"The Christian view of the child does not allow him to be conditioned as a dog may be conditioned to repond to a bell. We must have due respect for the sacredness of his separate personality. Therefore, we treat him with dignity, allowing for his weakness and need of support at any given stage."
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And one more quote:
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"We, each one, whatever our age, intelligence, or sex, have the responsibility of acting within the definite framework given in God's Word. Since Jesus Christ's early work, nobody is to act as a priest for anybody. And the Holy Spirit is the One who works deeply into our personal lives. We must never presume to usurp His work. It is dangerous to think that we are entitled to do so because we are parents, family, teachers, church workers, or adults. "
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All too often we hear of child training methods that are touted as Christian which are based on "behaviouristic" methods and involve setting up a child to fail and then punishing them for failing. Too too sad. Children are mini-people that have less life experience than we as adults and should be treated with respect and love.
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P.S. Tomorrow is D-day but I truly doubt Baby H will be making his/her debut appearance so don't hold your breath and DON'T say anything smart like, "You still here?" "How are you GOING?" "What? No baby yet?" or the ever clever and all knowing, "It'll be late." My hormones might get the better of me and I might say something snarky like, "Yes, don't you like having me here?" or "I'm actually in pain and think I'm about to deliver could you be midwife?" or "No we're waiting on the birth of a hamster didn't you know that?" "Late? Oh no does that mean it'll miss all it's birthday parties? Oh dear how terrible!"
I just realised that in the midst of all these blood tests and big questions, I hadn't really written about what my thoughts were about becoming a father.
It's strange . . . before Rach was pregnant, I was rather petrified by the whole idea.
Where's the money going to come from?
Will I make a good father?
Do we need to move out of the unit and into a house?
Where's the money going to come from?
Is Rach going to turn into a round balloon that wears sack dresses all day and never wears makeup?
Is she going to become so focused on the baby that I'll be just the guy who pays the bills and empties the recycling?
Where's the money going to come from?
Will I ever be able to go out somewhere ever again?
Will "spare time" be a ludicrous concept?
Because I like having "spare time" (e.g. watching a DVD every now and again, reading a chapter of a book, listening to some music, going for walks), does this mean that I'm way too selfish and I'm in for the shock of a lifetime?
Where's the money going to come from?
Anyway, oddly enough, once I laid eyes on the famous double stripes, none of that seemed to bother me any more. I thought it might hit me later on and it was delayed shock, but I've only got a few days to go and I'm not worried yet.
The reason? I can only put it down to the fact that God has never failed to look after me. Sure, I've had disappointments, and life hasn't always gone the way I wanted. And I'm sure Rachel would say the same thing. But, the important things we need in this world - clothing, housing, food, friends - have never been lacking. So, on those grounds, and also the promises that God makes to look after His children, it's been enough for me.
I'll worry another day, maybe. But not today.
Three days to go . . .
Yes, today, narrowly missing 06/06/06, is 07/06/06, which happens to be the date of our third wedding anniversary.
We celebrated in somewhat limited style (we didn't really want to go away anywhere with a baby around the corner) by eating too many pancakes at Pancakes on the Rocks. But they were GOOD pancakes.
The secret to surviving three years of marriage?
From Rachel: "Remember that it takes two to tango. Be honest. Talk about everything: the good, the bad and the ugly."
From me: Be ruthless.
And on that note, this is a good time to remind our readers . . . that we have FIVE sleeps to go.
Before we have to start counting in negative sleeps, that is.
I'm usually pondering over something at most times of the day, and there have been many different and varied things to ponder in this most life-changing of years.
One of the questions that has kept me occupied for the last year or so has been this one:
How do you serve God by being a property statistician?
It's not necessarily the easiest question to find answers on.
If you're a minister or a missionary, then it's fairly easy to know how you serve God. If you're a secretary to a minister, it's also easy to answer the question.
Being a Christian doctor seems to be an acceptable option.
But a Christian property statistician?
How does one do that?
I have heard that I can meet non-Christian people and tell them about Jesus. Which is certainly a worthwhile thing and would definitely serve God.
However, what about the other 99% of the time, when I'm doing property statistics? Is my problem that I should be making it less 99% statistics, 1% Jesus conversations and perhaps a bit more 80% stats, 20% Jesus convos?
How low can this ratio go before I get the sack?
In other news . . . six days to go.
Things turn full circle.
Had my annual blood test yesterday - which some of you may remember from last year as being one of my least fun experiences of 2005. While still not my favourite thing to do on a Saturday morning, I've got to hand it to the nurse on duty at Beverly Hills Pathology: it was the best blood test I've ever had.
I wasn't looking forward to this one. This is a 12-hour starvation test and last year, after surviving the test, I briskly walked two blocks to get the homeward-bound bus, arrived at the bus stop, and promptly felt woozy. (I think I used up all my blood sugar on the trip home.)
However, this time I suitably calmed myself down and made sure Rach came along as my getaway driver. . . . and brought something to eat afterwards.
My secret to getting through the test this time . . . .
Inane conversation.
As she's sticking the needle in: "What's your name? I'm Matthew." [It didn't occur to me as I said this, that she'd just seen my name on the actual pathology request from the doctor, my Medicare card, and asked me how to spell it on the FOUR vials that she pulled out in front of me before I lay down.]
However, she was very nice and played along. "I'm Susan."
"Oh, do you normally work here? I don't think I've seen you on duty before."
"No, I'm normally at St. George Hospital."
"Public?"
"Yes."
"That's where my wife is having her baby! It's due in a few days time . . ."
Etc. Etc. You can laugh, but it worked. Afterwards, I managed to get to hold my vials while I checked that she'd spelled my name correctly and my date of birth. I'm not sure why, but I actually found it rather satisfying looking at vials of my own blood.
In other news . . . This time next week is the due date (June 12th).
Stay tuned.
