I Have a Daughter
When my wife was pregnant, it was easy for me to imagine having a baby. We knew it was a girl, and we settled on Priscilla for the name pretty early on. I was that dad-to-be who would talk to his wife's belly, and I would usually call her "baby" or "Priscilla" and I spoke to her.
When Priscilla was born, that pretty much continued. I had a baby girl to hold and to love. I continued calling her by her name or occasionally "baby."
As she grew, it was remarkable to see that I didn't really have a baby anymore, but a kid. Wow! I have a kid running around the house getting into everything, smiling, laughing, throwing fits, asking "please" when she wants something, and just being so freaking awesome.
None of this really phases me. It just kind of seems normal. I have a kid. What does stop me in my tracks and feel the weight of my responsibility? When I think: I have a daughter.
Thinking of having a baby or a kid is one thing. It somewhat separates you from the role as a father. "Yeah, my kid just learned to climb into her high chair," is pretty benign. There is not much to it. However, "My daughter smiles every day when I return home from work" seems so much more important. My daughter.
When I talk and think about Priscilla, I usually think of her as my kid. My kid is the one I go for walks with, the one whose diapers I change, the one whom I discipline when she doesn't listen to the first three warnings not to touch the laptop. Those are kind of babysitter type responsibilities. However, my daughter needs a father, not a babysitter. My daughter is the one whose soul I need to shepherd. My daughter requires me to discipline her not for not listening to me, but because she needs to be obedient to her heavenly Father. I play with both my kid and my daughter, but it's my daughter whom I need to raise with eternity in mind.
I imagine it will be the same if I have a son. The idea of a son or a daughter just brings more weight with it than baby, child, or kid. Maybe I'm alone on this, but maybe not.
When Priscilla was born, that pretty much continued. I had a baby girl to hold and to love. I continued calling her by her name or occasionally "baby."
As she grew, it was remarkable to see that I didn't really have a baby anymore, but a kid. Wow! I have a kid running around the house getting into everything, smiling, laughing, throwing fits, asking "please" when she wants something, and just being so freaking awesome.
None of this really phases me. It just kind of seems normal. I have a kid. What does stop me in my tracks and feel the weight of my responsibility? When I think: I have a daughter.
Thinking of having a baby or a kid is one thing. It somewhat separates you from the role as a father. "Yeah, my kid just learned to climb into her high chair," is pretty benign. There is not much to it. However, "My daughter smiles every day when I return home from work" seems so much more important. My daughter.
When I talk and think about Priscilla, I usually think of her as my kid. My kid is the one I go for walks with, the one whose diapers I change, the one whom I discipline when she doesn't listen to the first three warnings not to touch the laptop. Those are kind of babysitter type responsibilities. However, my daughter needs a father, not a babysitter. My daughter is the one whose soul I need to shepherd. My daughter requires me to discipline her not for not listening to me, but because she needs to be obedient to her heavenly Father. I play with both my kid and my daughter, but it's my daughter whom I need to raise with eternity in mind.
I imagine it will be the same if I have a son. The idea of a son or a daughter just brings more weight with it than baby, child, or kid. Maybe I'm alone on this, but maybe not.
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