Joshua at Half-Time

I think it was about six months ago that an article/blog post was floating around Facebook, and it was about the concept of "Half Time" in your child's life.   Apparently, this occurs when your child turns 9.  I guess it makes sense, because they've already lived their first 9 years, and technically, they'll only have the next 9 years of living under the care of their parents before leaving home and venturing out on their own.  The article went on and asked parents to evaluate the first 9 years, and what the next nine might look like.

My Joshua is 9 today.  Nine.  How did this happen?

I remember the feeling of ecstatic joy when Jared and I found out that we were expecting Joshua, and I also remember the immense fear when I thought I might lose him when I experienced pre-term labor at 26 weeks and was put on automatic bed-rest.  During my 13 weeks of bed-rest, I felt anxiety, wanting Joshua to stay in the protective care of my womb, and with each passing week with him staying in-utero, it was a small victory.  But it was also during that season of bed-rest that I prayed relentlessly for this child.  I prayed every day that he would be okay, that he would be healthy, that even in the midst of my fear and anxiety, I knew God was already forming Joshua into the person that He intended, and I prayed for my little guy to be "strong and courageous", to live up to his name-sake.  My Joshua.  My little fighter.  He made it to 39 weeks.

And on May 26, 2006, I was admitted to Good Shepherd Hospital in Barrington.  I was excited and couldn't wait to meet my baby boy.  But a scary turn of events happened just when I was about to deliver naturally.  There was a rush of activity, and the pleasantries of the doctor and nurses were replaced with immediate seriousness and they started talking to each other...fast and in jargon I didn't understand.  Next thing I knew, they whisked Jared out of the room, and everything was a blur as more medical people came into my room.  They started moving my bed on wheels and heard someone yell "Prep the OR!".  A wave of panic swept over me, and I remember asking, "What's going on?!".  My sweet doctor took my hand and said that the baby was in distress, and that she had to perform an emergency c-scetion.  She said, "He'll be okay.  He'll be okay, but we need to do the c-section right now.".  Apparently, the baby's heart-rate had plummeted because the umbilical cord was around his neck.  I don't remember a lot of what happened next, maybe I signed some paperwork, maybe I didn't.  But I do remember praying through tears, "Lord, please save Joshua.  Take me, if it comes to that.  But please save Joshua."

They must have pumped me with so much drugs that I the next thing I remember was waking up in the recovery room.  I was alone at first, and very disoriented, wondering if I was dreaming.  I was in a fog.  Then, I saw Dr. Keith's smiling face, and then I remembered what had happened.  In my raspy voice, I asked "Is my baby ok?".  And she said that he was beautiful and perfect, and that I would get to meet him soon when I'm back in my room.  I was so relieved that I cried, and began thanking God profusely.  

Waiting to see Joshua for the first time seemed like an eternity.  I was back in my room, and I was relieved to see Jared.  He was giddy with happiness and said that he had seen Joshua and that he was small (5 lbs, 14oz!), but so cute.   And the moment came when the nurse wheeled in a clear plastic crib with a little white bundle in it.  The nurse started telling me things, which I honestly don't remember (but it was all captured in the video, so it's all good!).  I think it was about the security bands, etc., and she started telling Jared where to find diapers and wipes.  Really?!  I just want to hold my baby!!

When the nurse placed Joshua in my arms, and I held my baby boy for the first time, I couldn't stop the tears.  They were happy tears of joy and relief.  My beautiful, tiny, perfect son.  He fought through 13 weeks of pre-term labor, he fought through fetal distress, and he finally made it into my arms!  And when I looked into his beautiful face for the first time, I knew my heart would never be the same again.

My Joshua.  He's 9 today.  He still has a hold of my heart.  As I see him grow from early childhood to his elementary school years, I see a steadfastness in him.  What stands out is his heart.  His beautiful, compassionate, and tender heart.  He's sensitive, and considers others before himself.  He is slow to anger (most of the time!), and loves his sisters (even though he pretends not to!).  His sweet-nature is alluring, and his empathetic self is at its best when there are hurting people around, myself included.  He loves the Lord, and sometimes goes on-and-on about how he can't wait to get to heaven to be with Jesus, and that can be unnerving to me.  He's on a journey of wanting to know Jesus more, and is reading his Bible and even started journaling.  God bless him!

At the end of each school year, I have Joshua's teachers write in the Dr. Seuss book Oh, the Places You'll Go! that I had purchased for him.  It is my intent to give this to him on his graduation day in high school.  That way, he can see how his teachers (starting from Kindergarten!) felt about him.  So far, their sentiments have been very consistent.  And this is confirmation of who Joshua is.  Each teacher (there's only 4 so far!) has mentioned adjectives like "helpful", "kind", "cares for others", "respectful", "joy to have in class",  his 2nd grade teacher, Mr. Yu, even said:

"You were patient, understanding, and empathetic towards all - it was like having a little miniature adult walking around my classroom...I have no doubt that you are growing up to be a strong leader and righteous man..."

Reading these words about my son makes me so proud of Joshua...of who he is, and who he is becoming.  It's not anything I've done, but it's by the grace of God.

I love the traditions I have with Joshua, like going on Mommy-Joshua dates (we always go to Sonic, his favorite fast food place!), going to the zoo to celebrate his birthday every year, watching the Amazing Race together with a set goal that we'd do it together some day. I love holding his hand while walking him to school (I'm not sure how much longer he'll let me do this!).  I love when he talks smack about beating me in a 1-mile race, and if I did beat him, he'd make a silly excuse that the sun was in his eye (ha!).  I love when he whispers his secrets in my ear and makes me promise not to tell.  I love that he's learned how to make me a cup of tea!  I love that he LOVES to read (yay!!).  I love talking sports with him, especially football (American and English!).  Ok, and I love that he loves soccer and is so good at it!

I love how he's willing to help and is the first one to always make a birthday or get well card.  I love our conversations right before bed time, it's like he knows he can ask me anything or talk to me about anything (we had a 2.5 hour conversation about theology which somehow ended up with me explaining the birds and the bees!  That's a story for another time!).  I love that he asks me to pray for him, even for mundane things like a math test, or a soccer game, or an upset tummy.  I love that he has that kind of trust in God.   

I love how he encourages me, like when we watch American Ninja Warrior, and he tells me that I can do it, just like Kacy Catanzaro.  I love how he gives me so much grace, especially after I see myself crushing his spirit and then going back to apologize.  He expends his forgiveness so freely to the point where I feel that I don't deserve it.  My son is an example of Jesus to me!

And, I loved being the one that got to pray with him when he asked Jesus into his heart.

I grew up in a dysfunctional home, and I didn't know what a good parent looked like.  Or what I thought a good parent was, in hindsight, wasn't a very healthy view.  I remember telling myself that if I ever had kids, I was going to give my children what I never had.  I'm not talking about material possessions, but I was adamant in giving them the emotional and spiritual foundation that I never had.  In my quest to becoming a "good enough" mom, I immersed myself in books, conferences, bible studies, etc.   But I believe that I huge part of it was prayer.  Prayers of surrender, prayers for wisdom, prayers for God to help me do my best, prayers for grace when I mess up.  

I am the most blessed of mothers, for God has blessed me beyond measure with the gift of Joshua.  May the next 9 years be full of God's grace and mercy as I journey alongside my son as he navigates the seasons of adolescence, spiritual, intellectual, and emotional development, and of finding his identity.  May God give me wisdom and discernment to teach him, encourage him, cheer him on, be on my knees in prayer for him daily, and point him to seek first God's kingdom.  May Josh ultimately find his identity in Christ, and may he grow up to be the man God has created him to be, the strong and courageous kind, one who loves Jesus and loves others.  May Joshua know the depths of my love for him, and may God give me the peace and strength when the time comes for me to let him go.

Happy birthday Joshua!  I love you with my whole heart.