You'd think that as the mother of six children, the miracle of life would be old hat. After all, I've experienced the process a few times already. Yet, somehow each baby that I hold in my arms is more a miracle than the last. Perhaps the reason is related to being pregnant four different times when I didn't hold a baby in my arms and watching the death of my younger sister. Life is very fragile. It truly is a miracle and cannot be taken for granted.
Perhaps part of the reason I'm so in awe of the baby I hold in my arms each day is because he is a boy. Honestly, though, I don't think that is the reason. Most of my pregnancy, I battled fear; fear that the baby slowing being knit together "in secret" would not actually live to be born. Even up to delivery, the nagging fear that life would be stolen from this precious child in my womb tempered my excitement. Now, though I am not guaranteed a long life for my son, or even for my five daughters, the fear is gone. In it's place is a wonder and sense of awe. This little person, so distinct and different from me, came from me. Wow.
God is so amazing. He created the miracle of life, and yet somehow I think even He is caught up in the wonder of His creation. Not only did God create the miracle of life, He watched His Son, Jesus, be born as a baby. He watched with delight as Jesus grew into a man, then He pronounced His blessing at Jesus' baptism, "This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well-pleased." Who among us wouldn't be encouraged to hear such words coming out of the mouth of our father, good man or not?
Life is a precious gift. It is a miracle to get pregnant and a miracle when a baby is born. Well do I know that a positive pregnancy test doesn't guarantee a wee one to hold nine months later. When God's gift results in pregnancy and that pregnancy ends with a healthy baby, it truly is a miracle. A miracle of life.