Becoming a Father

From the beginning of the Genesis to the end of Revelation, the phrase, “Do not be afraid,” is consistent. In Genesis, when the Lord first condescends to Abram, the Lord says, “Do not be afraid.” When the angel comes to Mary in the gospel of Luke, the angel says, “Do not be afraid.” Not submitting to fear is a lesson taught over and over in Holy Scripture. Living a deep and meaningful life requires us to summon unusual courage. Becoming a father, or mother, is no different.

It happened like this:

Our favorite nurse met us at the door. Your mother settled into bed. The bed was surrounded by wires and hoses and machines. The labor began. Real labor. Five hours of it. And never once did your mother have pain medication. Not even an aspirin. She wanted to have you naturally.

That's where I came in. Or so I was told. I coached your mother. I helped her focus, relax, and breathe. So much of life is like that: focus, relax, and breathe. Five hours of hard labor and she breathed through the entire ordeal. Breathed through the pain and the exhaustion. Breathed through her fear.

It was beautiful. The room was dark, except for one small light. Music of the Taize Community in France softly played in the background. “Lord hear my prayer, Lord hear my prayer...”

The midwife arrived and your mom pushed. You began to emerge. First the crown of your head, wet and brown. I was dumbfounded. Then your face, red with eyes closed. Then, quite suddenly, you wiggled out. I was awestruck. Your birth was the greatest thing I had ever seen.

Immediately after you emerged, the midwife, staring into my eyes, asked, “Dad what do we have?” “A son,” I replied. “A son.” And these words, dear William, are two of the most sacred words I've ever spoken. “A son.” It was 5:37 AM. And not a day goes by that I don't thank God for you.

Happy Birthday.