Ivy Is Here - (2015 Remixed & Remastered)

IIvy Mikayla was born August 7, 2010, at 7:10 AM. Heather and I had accomplished everything within our power to ready her new little world within a small parcel of just over 1,000 square feet. She can call 8x10 worth of that thousand square feet hers. We were ready, per material standards. We did not, however, have any kind of bearing on what type of emotional impact her birth would deliver. It hit me at about 7:09 AM and 43 seconds.

Ivy appeared at 7:10 AM. The only way to describe my emotional state is by comparing it to a washing machine on "Heavy Duty" cycle. This specific wash had everything packed inside. Colors, whites, delicates, and knits. When she appeared, numerous emotions hit me all at once. I felt weak from instant unconditional love. I wanted to be strong and yet I wanted to burst into tears at the same time. The only thing that was set in stone, unchanging, was my ear-to-ear smile. That wasn't going anywhere.  

 

When I think back, I tend to chuckle a bit. I had to give the medical team a little bit of room right after she was born so that they could do their job. I remember standing about four feet behind them in a haze that I can’t really describe. And I still held that smile. I can liken that moment to standing in a piece of PVC pipe, bottled up with the emotions I described earlier. I must have looked drunk. I guess I was, depending on how you look at it.

All of my friends, who are parents, have told me that time does nothing but shoot by you at an immeasurable pace. I naively figured that I’d have a minute to sit back and realize all that has happened and to study the little miracle that Heather and I were able to produce. They were all right. We have been hit by a barrage of diapers, feeding schedules, wake time, nap time, skin to skin time, Google searches as to "why she does this," and a mommy/daddy sleep schedule that mommy and daddy aren’t used to. Ivy is already eight days old. It feels like she just arrived yesterday.

Mikayla means "Gift From God" which, if you know our story, is quite appropriate. After some of the dust had settled, I was able to study my little girl as she laid in her mobile wooden cradle. I have heard numerous people ask for proof of God’s existence. As I looked at Ivy, I could only wonder how they can’t see the miracles that we are surrounded by at every rounded corner. Specifically, within a new little blessing such as this!

Ivy is not chance. She is not an accident. She didn’t evolve out of matter. God’s hand shaped her into the intricacy that envelops every breathing human body. And everything else for that matter. As I looked at her, I noticed that everything she is comprised of has a purpose. From the way that she looks (physically), to the numerous faces that she has learned how to make.

Parents are right. It is incredible how having a child will coerce life’s purpose into a 180 degree turn.

Thank You, Lord, for this opportunity. We pray that you protect Ivy as she continues to grow, and we pray that you continue to mold Heather and I into the parents that we should be.  

Being A Parent and Such...

Heather just passed the thirty-week mark today, June 2, 2010. The fact that I haven’t even started to convert the office into a nursery yet might describe how surreal this feels to me. I remember the first ultrasound when Ivy looked like a little pinto bean with branches. The next ultrasound produced images that revealed the beginnings of skeletal structure, frog legs, and a big belly. And then we found out that she was a girl. No weiner to be found.

These days, there is a hyper little body of life kicking around inside Heather’s belly. I put my hand on her skin to feel movement. I imagine that Ivy is like me as she tries to find the most comfortable position to sleep within her little cocoon. If it were me in there, I’d stick my face up against mom’s belly to freak out whoever might be looking at me from the outside. But that’s just my humor. Ivy is due August 11^th. I needed nine months to prepare myself for the change that is coming. This is what I have constructed within the limitations of my brain. All of these actions are subject to change based on the natural direction of said child.

What type of music am I going to play for her when she arrives? If I sit her in front of AC/DC’s “Let There Be Rock” record will she turn into a biker chick? What if I play her Miles Davis’ “Kind of Blue” record? Will she turn into Lisa Simpson? So what is the balance? What is a good medium? After much consideration, I have determined that she will be subjected to the following records: Journey “Escape,” Jimmy Eat World’s “Clarity,” Sigur Ros’ “Ágætis byrjun,” both of Matthew Pryor’s Terrible Twos records, Evan Robinson’s work with War Stories and definitely Gary Shiebler’s work. Maybe even Snoopy and the Red Barron if I can find it on 7 inch. I figure that’s a good start and a good mix.

Heather and I pray everyday about life after the baby. I would love nothing more then for Heather to be a stay at home mom. No, that doesn’t mean, “man go to work, woman stay home to clean, cook, raise child, and be man slave.” It means that I would be comforted by the fact that we are rearing our own child. We want to be the example to our child. I always fear that she will be confused about who is who. And “why do I get into trouble when I do this with them but not when I do this with them?” Or “why do they let me watch TV all day but mom and dad won’t?” God will steer us in the right direction. We know everything will be ok. It’s just one of the things I think about.

Our child will know what a book is. She will know how to read it. Whether she likes to read as she grows older is her choice, but at least she will have read a novel. Our child will not own a portable game player, nor will a game player exist in the house. She will know what it is like to run around outside at the playground. She will know what it is like to skin her knees, to get dirty, and to hit a boy in the face if she likes him. And if a little boy tries to kiss her she will kick him in the balls and get into trouble just like we did in the old days. She will not sit in front of the television set all day, but she will be taken to the theatre on special occasions. How can one deprive a child of such an amazing experience? I still remember my mom and dad walking me down the aisle of the theatre as the opening credits for “Empire Strikes Back” rolled across the screen. It was larger then life to me. It was 1980 and I was only two years old. I still remember.

Ultimately, Ivy will pick her final resting place in every relevant category. I will support her in any natural direction she chooses to pursue with the exception of crime. You might think I am contradicting myself if you parallel the above statement and all the rules I have set which can be seen above. This isn’t true however. The fact that I am playing good music for her simply means that I want to introduce her to good music. If she ever fell in love with the sounds of Justin Bieber, Clay Aiken, DC Talk, Audio Adrenalin, or Beyonce, I don’t know how I’d be able to carry on in this world. It’s not even an attempt to get her to pick up an instrument. I just want her to be able to decipher garbage from art.

I’ve only skimmed the surface of a few of the things that run through my mind. But I guess that’s what parenting is all about. It’s a whole new adventure. And I feel like I am ready. I’ll start by moving the office into the guest bedroom like I have been meaning to do. 95% because I’m ready to, and 5% because Heather will kill me (literally) if I put it off any longer.

Steven!