I can still remember, like it was yesterday, the day we pulled our Honda Civic into the Emergency entrance to Piedmont Hospital. We got Debra into a wheelchair and began speaking with a maternity nurse about check in procedures. She had been experiencing a contraction when we came in so we began walking down the hall to the elevator. As we waited for the doors to open she began to have another contraction (in much less than the 5 minute duration they told us meant imminent birth). The nurse was so alarmed we turned and RAN down the hall on an alternate route to the next floor. Within a few hours Lauryn was born. I can still remember the overwhelming fear that engulfed me... "Will the baby be healthy?" "Will I be a good parent?" "Is Debra OK?" "Am I really ready to grow up?".
After the birth, and after making sure Debra was OK I moved over to the bassinet where they were doing the initial checkup on our new daughter. I looked down at her tiny body, at those tiny toes and fingers and reached my hand towards her. She quieted, turned her head, looked me straight in the eyes and reached out with her tiny hand, grasping my finger. At that moment I knew that whatever it took, I would be up to the task. Taking care of my daughter for those few years where her welfare was in my hands was a responsibility I was ready for. Somehow God knows us better than we know ourselves. It is an awesome feeling when he gently steps in and assures us.
