Family Files II

What I am going to tell you is precious to our family. Please find that corner of your heart where sweet, tender things abide and read this from that place.
Jesse was a bonus baby. He came to us at a very stressful time. We were square in the middle of raising a large family, trying to keep a home together, trying to manage finances, busy in church and in school activities. We felt our plate was full. When I found out I was expecting, I did the logical thing: I went into a serious funk. I was foolish, I had jeopardized my own health and the well being of our family. My husband, Blaine, was equally distressed: how could we provide for seven children, let alone six? We were having trouble being parents already! We were a sorry duo.
After a few months of drowning in our own self pity, we received some very good counsel, and we followed it. I don’t need to tell you what it was, because it was good counsel for us; you’ve received and followed good counsel before, you know what it feels like. As a result, our attitudes changed. We began to realize that, contrary to what we had initially thought, the coming of this baby was not part of the ongoing struggle, but instead an instrument of resolution. We began to look forward to this birth, we felt at peace about it.
Jesse weighed in at 11 pounds 7 ounces, natural birth just like all the others (the obstetrician for my first pregnancy told me that my body was built for having babies - thank heavens!). Blaine was there as he had been for each preceding birth. Childbirth is an emotional experience, particularly when you’ve consciously met and labored through every anticipatory wave of preparation, all the way to that final whoosh, when that mysterious burden slips from his solitary inner world out into his new earthly landscape. One feels so glad, so exhausted, so amazed! Blaine, endearingly, cried every time.
I always insisted on my babies “rooming in” - staying in my room instead of in the hospital nursery. So the nurses, after cleaning Jesse up a bit and administering the standard tests, brought him back to me. I was sitting in a rocking chair; they handed this incredible little bundle of mystery to me; I received it in awe, still wrapped in the otherworldly spirit that is human birth. His deep blue eyes locked with mine - consciously. His whole face blossomed into a beatific smile, every feature alight, and we communicated in utter clarity: I’m here! Everything is going to be all right now. God had sent us our very own family angel.
That day our oldest son Andrew was in a “live” Cub Scout derby race: each scout (and his dad) made his own car out of a cardboard box, and provided the horsepower with his own two legs. Blaine and the other children, Amy, Tamra, Benjamin, Matthew and Jared, were the pit crew. Andrew’s car was the General Lee, complete with orange paint, 01 on the side, and a real metal grill (his car was so heavy that he came in last, but he was awarded best design).
This little family endeavor seemed to make Jesse’s birth all the more a family event. When the children came to the hospital for a visit later that day, there was a strong sense of camaraderie and enthusiasm; the great race and the baby’s birth seemed to take part in the same spirit, a joie de vivre that was particularly familial. Already Jesse’s presence was working its magic.
In fact, I guess that is what Jesse, our baby, has done for us, just by being who he is: he has had a binding effect upon us all; through his birth somehow we became truly "all for one and one for all."
Until that time, I had never been quite sure that our deliberate though prayerful decision to have six children was really right, even though, as I said, we felt fully engaged to the pressure point with that many. Once my change of attitude occurred, and with greater conviction after Jesse arrived, how many children we had wasn’t even an issue anymore somehow. It just wasn’t important. Jesse’s presence in our family was a testament to the fact that God knew us and was especially concerned for our welfare. He had us in the palm of his hand. We were not to worry, but only to do all that we could do. He would do the rest, in ways often seemingly contradictory, but always amazingly fulfilling.
And so it has been. The struggles still occurred, things still remained to be resolved. There was more joy present, though, more purpose. More "We can do this." It was as though we had all linked hands and were pressing forward, always forward. It was messy, it was inconvenient, it was turbulent. But we were in it together, and together we remain.
Jesse is almost 19 now. When he graduated last spring, I figured I had the summer to transition before he went off to college, but his summer job required him to live with the people he worked with. Even though it was still fairly local, it came as a blow to me. I questioned in my heart, I suppose, whether it was just to take him away from me so peremptorily. Into my heart came the response: You have had him for eighteen years; it is time to share him with others now.
“Oh,” said I, “Okay, I understand. Thank You.”
The name Jesse means gift.