Twenty-three years ago today, I headed to the hospital, with timed contractions about every five minutes. I settled into a rocking chair, with monitoring wires attached to my belly. My nurse became concerned and said to me, as I enjoyed the rhythm of the rocker, Linda, you are making me nervous. Your contractions are registering pretty intensely and right on top of one another. I need you to hop on the bed so I can check just how close you are. Clearly the monitor was not matching my relatively relaxed state. Once on the bed, she quickly ascertained that I was ready to go and she would get the doctor in there and I could start pushing. Pushing? Really? Suddenly my mind harkened back to Erics delivery just two and a half years earlier. I think I pushed for over an hour. I began to argue with the nurse. If I didnt feel like pushing, did I really have to start? Yep. It was time. I focused on the task at hand, rather dreading the thought of an hour of effort. But to my surprise and relief, a couple of tries, and Holly Angela Reinert was born! A healthy, almost 8 pound, blue-eyed beauty with a head full of black curls joined our family. Exactly one year to the date, I had miscarried an early pregnancy. That time was solemn and heartbreaking. One moment I was pregnant, looking forward to seven months down the road and the next moment I am empty and my arms ache for the child I will never hold this side of heaven. But here it is exactly one year later, and my arms and heart are full to overflowing. The truth is, there could be no Holly Angela had her closest sibling lived. Each ultrasound and measurement from my first appointment with Holly indicated January 15th as the due date. It never wavered, never moved, even when different doctors or nurses would do the evaluating and calculating. To me, it confirmed that God had a plan and He was in charge from the very start. Hollys delivery would foretell the kind of baby she was. She was easy. She slept well and often. We could take her anywhere and she was often content to sit and watch life around her unfold. She smiled easily and could fall asleep just backing out of a driveway. And then she turned two. It was a bit like a light switch, her turning into a strong-willed, determined, independent little fire-cracker. She would all but insist on dressing herself. She may cry for twenty minutes, struggling to get her sweater buttoned or her coat zipped, but she would have nothing to do with outside assistance. From age two on, she seemed destined to travel. More to break free than to explore. Her first phrase was, while being held, get down! She ran way from home more than once, her Rainbow Brite suitcase packed with a shoe, a toy, and perhaps a pair of shorts. She would schlep on down the gravel road, getting about a quarter mile from home before her little legs would surrender. Ill never forget her desire to learn to tie her shoelaces. She had witnessed her big brother Eric master the task and she was determined to do the same. Only she didnt want help, and I believe, just couldnt accept help. She was going to do this on her own. On her fourth birthday, she did just that. I wouldnt have believed it had she not presented undeniable proof. I heard in a distance, I did it! I tied my shoes! I imagined she had slipped on a pair of shoes that had earlier been slipped off, still tied. She would claim she tied them and I would offer up my praise with my skepticism in check. But there she stood, with her high-top tennis shoes, tied securely at the ankle. She had, indeed, done it! No thanks to anyone else. In eighth grade, she decided she would attend a different high school than her hometown district. And today she resides in California. She left home at eighteen, destined for Nebraska. She journeyed to Texas, which led to California. She no longer has her Rainbow Brite suitcase, but the hardwiring to break free and be her own girl is just the same as it was twenty some years ago. She is a remarkable young woman. I often wonder which one of my ancestors had the blood type that was passed down to my Holly Belle to instill in her a deep passion for self discovery, independence, adventure, and determination to do it her way. I admit. Its not been easy parenting such a strong spirit. I would not hesitate to say Ive probably done it wrong more often than right. I can say, with a contrite heart, that I am sorry for mishandling some aspects of our relationship. It is good to know that Jesus has washed all the messy, regrettable, just-plain-ugly moments from His record book. I hope my Holly can do the same. Perhaps it is true, that a child cannot fully understand a parents love until they become a parent. But I sure do want to believe that Holly can somehow know deep in her inner most being just how much her mom and dad adore her, admire her, love her, and desire the best for her. Being I cant do anything to ensure that happens, I simply and sweetly take all my hopes and dreams for my child and set them gently at the foot of Jesus. Hes got this. Hes assured us all we are marvelously made with a great purpose in mind. A purpose decided even before we came to be! So on this, my Hollys birthday, I say to God, thank you for such a warm and wonderful gift. And I say to Holly, you are love beyond words and we will always love you, even to the end of time.
Posted on: Thu, 15 Jan 2015 22:30:48 +0000
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