Sometimes I find myself praying for God to change Ivy. Not big changes, stuff like, “help her to not be grumpy,” “make her sleep well,” “help her to be happy.”
Then something hit me that I of course knew but needed to come face to face with. Ivy is just going through her motions. It’s more important for me to learn to control mine.
Ivy can be grumpy, mean, crying, not sleeping, screaming, and causing all other sorts of havoc. That’s not what matters. What matters is my patience, my learning, my growth.
I’ll say it again, Ivy’s going through her motions, and I’m learning to control mine.
There will come a point when she will be responsible for her actions and will be accountable for her behavior. How can I expect her to be great at controlling her behavior as she gets older if I haven’t mastered my own behavior yet? She will learn from my (and Beth’s) example. It makes me think of the Macklemore song called Growing Up where he says,
“I’ll be patient, one more month
You’ll wrap your fingers round my thumb
Times are changing, I know
But who am I if I’m the person you become
If I’m still growing up”
(Side note, as writing this I almostttt lost my patience as I pulled a piece of paper out of Ivy’s mouth and kept her from deleting everything I just typed. The joys of fatherhood 😊)
Back to my point, Ivy does what she does and is what she is, innocent and perfect. I’m the one that needs to change.
So, when I find myself mistakenly saying, “Heavenly Father, please comfort Ivy and make her know she is safe and watched over so she can sleep tonight,” instead I say, “Heavenly Father, give me the strength, energy, and patience, that even if Ivy doesn’t sleep a wink tonight, Ican help her know she is watched over, I can make her feel comforted, and I can have complete patience with her as she helps me to grow.”
I am eternally grateful for fatherhood and all it is teaching me.
Ivy came today. I’m writing this in a bit of a haze. I keep getting told to get used to it.
Beth started having contractions around 2AM this morning. Apparently I asked her if she was OK around 2:30AM. Don’t have a complete recollection of that.
Around 5AM her water broke. We were at the hospital around 6AM. Beth got checked in and I believe was around 3.5cm.
At 6:30AM I received a text from my father-in-law (shout out Keith Cannon), “Of course we’re praying for Beth and Ivy. But also for you. I hope you stay conscious. Good luck.”
Between 6AM and 8:30AM things moved very quickly.
At 7:57AM I texted my mom and told her Beth seemed to be in so much pain. They wanted her to finish some pitocin.
I think it was 8:30AM when they came back in and kind of freaked out. Beth was in excruciating pain and at about 9cm. 10cm (I learned) is what is needed to start delivery.
I started getting our stuff together while they quickly wheeled her to the delivery room. When I came out into the hallway they were gone. I started wandering and came upon a man in scrubs. I asked him if someone came this way and he asked who. I told him he would have known if they did. I walked down the other hall and came up to a nurse. She asked what I was looking for and I said, “the screaming.” She led me to the delivery room.
I texted my mom from the delivery room at 9:07am, “Close.”
They finally got the epidural in at that time which made things drastically better. Beth improved immediately.
From 9:07AM to 9:23AM Beth went from writhing, screaming, and crying in pain to texting my mom. “Epidural has kicked in and I’m 10cm. I’ll probably deliver in an hour or so. They were shocked how fast I was moving.”
I’ve heard over and over about this thing that happens when becoming a father. I can’t emphasize it enough. I can’t say it with adequate enthusiasm or exaggeration.
When I first saw Ivy James Quackenbush my heart expanded, my world flipped upside down. In an instant I realized I would do anything, I would give my life without a second thought and at a moment’s notice for that beautiful soul. She was perfect, so beautiful.
I wish I could put it into words, but they’re not enough. My life as I knew it was over. And I knew it. This little thing was the new center. The center of my universe- along with Beth.
Watching what Beth went through, so much pain, to bring this life into the world. I instantly had something open up inside of me. Appreciation for my mother. ‘She went through this for me?!?!’ Love and awe at the strength of my wife and all women. How can a man walk out on a wife after seeing her bring the most important thing in the world, into the world? I thought of so many mothers – Eve, Mary, my mom, my wife. My Ivy.
How can women be treated the way they are in the world when they are the entire world? They’re why we’re all here.
I loved these two in a way I didn’t know was possible.
I couldn’t stop staring at Ivy. The gravitational pull of the universe had changed.
Beth held her and she screamed. Let the record show I cut the cord. She screamed and it was simultaneously the most fascinating and most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I didn’t know a scream could be so powerful.
I put my finger out and Ivy grabbed. She stopped screaming. The nurses started to take her for measurements and she wouldn’t let go of my finger. My heart!
I followed her. The thoughts I hadn’t let start because her coming had always been surreal started to flood my mind: I’m going to play basketball with her. I hope she loves basketball. We’ll play together. We’ll be best friends. I hope I never hurt her. I hope I can always protect her.
How does Heavenly Father love me? I’m a little closer to understanding today. I’m a little closer to understanding what true love is.
Ivy James Quackenbush and Elisabeth Brooke Quackenbush. My family.
No Coincidences 