Today my firstborn turns 8 years old. Before I know it she will be in the double digits, something she will be in for the rest of her life. An awesome thought to ponder. Where has the time flown to that I am now the mother of a “little miss independent” 8-year-old? By that I mean that she no longer needs me to tie her shoe laces for her, to bathe her, help her to get dressed, wipe her bottom, brush her teeth, make her bed or strap her in a car seat. She is too big for me to carry ~ although never too big for me to cuddle. While these years have indeed flown by on the one hand, on the other there is the freedom for me not to have to do these things for her anymore. It tugs at my heart-strings in such a powerful way though to realize that she no longer needs me for these little things. But there will always be other things to do in the unchartered voyage of discovery in her life ahead and as she grows into her future.
Lately, I have seen our conversations transform from those of speaking with a small child to the young woman who is developing in her. She is now old enough to genuinely help me with chores around the house. Honestly, I don’t know what I would do without her when it comes to helping out with 7-month-old Eli. If I am in the shower or busy making dinner and Eli is fussing, Rachel is there to hold him and play with him. My heart is filled with gratitude for the beautiful young person she is and for the comfort she brings me with the help she gives. I always have to keep in mind not to burden her too much with expectations on the first-born.
My mind takes me back to that time, not so long ago it seems, when I first found out I was pregnant, and not long after a trip to India. I was shocked when I read the “positive” result of the pregnancy test I had taken at home. I took 4 more tests to make sure. They all said the same thing. My world stood still as I tried to imagine how much my life would soon be changing. Troy, upon finding out the news, was completely thrilled and very ready to be a father. I, on the other hand, was anxious and full of apprehension. I had never imagined myself as a parent. I had never changed a diaper or really watched any children outside of working in the church nursery a few times and that wasn’t exactly “my cup of tea”. I didn’t think of myself as a “kid’s person” and I did not want to have babies for a while yet or stay home. I had “plans”.
My! How times have changed! Now, I love children and I absolutely love staying home and being with my babies! I wouldn’t change the life I have now for anything else.
My pregnancy progressed without any complications. Rachel was given the due date of November 6th ~ my mom’s birthday. My parents, who lived 1,200 miles away in Kentucky, left their home a couple of days before Rachel was due to arrive in order to be with us and to welcome our child in to the world. They were driving and just over halfway into the trip when my labor started. I called my parents and asked them to hurry! They prayed and asked The Lord to delay the birth until they could arrive. The Lord heard and the contractions stopped.
When my parents finally arrived in Boulder at 6:20 pm on the evening of November 4th, I waddled out to greet them. After hugging me my mom leaned over and kissed my belly and said “Okay baby, you can come now. We’re here.” 10 minutes later my contractions started up again and in earnest. A couple of hours later we left for the hospital. God was so good in granting me the desire of my heart in having my parents there to share this life-changing time and so the timing of their arrival and my labor were perfect.
We all, together, and with such joy welcomed Rachel Aliyah in to the world as the sun arose over the mountains early the next morning. She was a beautiful and healthy baby weighing 8 lbs. 13 oz and she immediately let us know what a wonderful, healthy pair of lungs she had been blessed with.
We had decided to wait until the birth to find out the sex of our baby. Throughout my pregnancy my mother felt very strongly that we were having a girl. A few years before Rachel’s entrance in to this world, my mom and I had been on a trip to Israel together. Early one morning as she was standing on a hill of olive trees near a kibbutz in Jerusalem overlooking the tomb of the Biblical Rachel in Bethlehem, watching the sun rise and praying, she felt strongly impressed from The Lord that her first grandchild would be a girl named Rachel. She shared that with me at the time but since I was not married nor did I ever think of being a mother, I didn’t dwell on the thought. It was only after we heard “It’s a girl!” and Troy & I had officially named her Rachel, that my mom reminded me of that morning in Jerusalem.
I am so deeply thankful and I feel wonderfully blessed that we have this beautiful child as our daughter.
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