Category — Family

A very goofy angel

It took parenthood to awaken me to the fragility of life. 

These days, as I make my way through the world, fearful thoughts dart through my mind: 

“What if that car, racing the red, hit me? I’d be brain-damaged, mangled. Would my daughter recognize me? When they wheeled me out of surgery would her face still crest like the sun at the sight of me? Or would she not know me at all?” 

I imagine her life without her mother and my eyes well with a flurry of tears.

In other moments, I think:

“What if something happened to my little girl? What if she had a life-threatening disease, her body shrunken to a mere few pounds as she fought for life? How would I cope with feeding tubes being laced down her throat? Would I crumble like paper or would I rise up, warring in the fight?”

I find my lips whispering prayers of thanks for life, every day. It’s a new posture for me. For most of my life I have taken life for granted. It was given. I am living it. But now, with a small life entrusted into my faulty hands, I tread lightly. I am mindful. I want to drive slower, look both ways, meander more, notice. 

It’s the way God sees, I think. He watches this spinning globe He made and hones in on a delightful little boy kicking soccer balls in Argentina. He smiles. Delights in this young child, destined for a profession in plumbing, fatherhood, public service. He sees the fullness of a life unfolding beneath dusty feet.

God is a God of love, the Bible tells us over and over. 

Psalm 33:18 reads: “The Lord watches over those who obey him, those who trust in his constant love.” 

How would our lives look differently if we believed it?

I’d be much less fearful, I think.

Her fingers wrap around mine like a chord. Limbs darting up to tug at my linen, cotton billows, reaching out to declare: “You are mine.” Tenacious, yet layered with a heart like cream, Madeleine steals frames from faces in an instant. Translucent glass beads scattered about the floor save her from topples as she devours them with her finger folds. Snowy flesh. She is sitting better and better every day. At dawn each morning Daddy awakes to spend sleepy hours with her while I try and catch up from night waking. Enfolding one another in the day’s first light. This is our love.

Timbers reach
groaning sinews
reaching upward,
upwards.
gentle pebbles
blanketing the undergrowth
lacing knees.
And she grows.

Clouds, pale,
climbing over
silver havens:
powder blue.
the skies,
they climb, up to
billowing suns.
And she grows.

Strangers pass
each other glances,
blackened ravens
feast on dry bread
together, they eat,
feasting.
And she grows.

An old woman
knits her last line
pearl, hook
pearl, hook.
a gift for an old friend.
remembering the first time.
recalling.
And she grows.

A fist opens,
then closes.
clench, reach
touch, lean.
change falling
through worn fingers.
they’re reaching.
And she grows.

A sparrow is born.
nestled in a hanging basket
on a patio, grey.
it takes its first flight
falling thirteen leagues
down,
down
to flight.
he’s soaring.
And she grows.

A mother’s hands
crawl, trembling…
around newborn skin.
she watches:
almond eyes growing
wide with wonder,
searching.
giving name to her world.
And she grows.

::::

Life is full. I am happy. Madeleine is the joy and wonder of our life.

My step mom’s humour strikes again. Check out my two sisters and I in action here: We Are Disco (Elves)

:::

To view more picture of our little munchkin, click here.

Long grey corridors dance
with candy cane stripes
choreographing
even-heeled steps
of close-mouthed
white coats.

today, inside,
it feels like a tomb
where condolences lie
like musty window-dressings.

it is here we are
met by unexpected blue-clad smiles
darting in and out from
melancholy sheets. 

it tastes like honey.
and the day is still beginning.

::::::::::::::::

st. paul’s hospital. september 25, 2006. during my mom’s cancer.

Your face is an orbit. Pursed lips, supple skin. Bright eyes, like moons. A constellation.

You are a little ship, a face like an ocean cresting. Raven hair and blue eyes the size of boulders. 

I swim in your sea from day’s break to day’s end. You are my life’s greatest treasure. Lying beside you these first days has felt like a rebirth. Your soul, your face, every inch of you speaks pure. Your loveliness outshines the rainbow that nestled itself outside our window yesterday. I would spend the rest of my days gazing at your face if the world, the Lord, would allow. Instead I will take my moments, store them in my heart like gold, and watch you grow, grow, grow up into heaven, out into the world.

We welcomed our little girl one week ago today. Madeleine Jacoba Hope.

Madeleine comes from the root ‘Magdalen’ meaning ‘High Tower.’ Therefore she is named after Mary Magdalene and also the wonderful writer, Madeleine L’Engle. Jacoba (pronounced Yacoba) is my grandmother’s middle name, common to the Dutch, which shares the same Hebrew root as my brother James’ name. Hope is a word that has particularly captured me this year (I wrote about it here.) Also, we felt the name appropriate due to to the amount of times we had to reach out to Jesus for hope during her labour and delivery. It was a long journey to meet our little girl. 

Madeleine weighed in at 9 lbs 11 oz after 81 hours of labour, start to finish. Although we laboured almost entirely at home, she was delivered naturally by our midwives at Burnaby General Hospital in the wee hours of the morning. Mommy was too tired to go anymore without a little help (a small amount of IV Oxytocin.)

Our new life with Madeleine:

In the words of Madeleine L’Engle, one of our little girl’s namesakes: “Jesus was not a theologian. He was God who told stories.”

Our prayer is that our little one will tell the story of Christ through her beautiful, adventurous, and marvelous life. 

We welcomed Madeleine Jacoba Hope on September 2 at 9:15 AM.

9 lbs 11 oz. 72 hours of labour. Mom and baby are happy and healthy. Daddy says: “God help fathers of daughters.”

We are in love.

So, when do you think our bundle of joy is coming? Will it be a boy or a girl? And how much will s/he weigh? Post your predictions!

Date:
Gender:
Weight: 

Whoever is closest will win a prize! I am going to think of something exciting to mail you in the meantime… (Hint: the due date is August 27, though it changed once to the 19th, after a 20-week ultrasound.)

Let the guessing begin!