A Daughter

 So we're in that hazy, blurry season of newborn life. Everything is a bit foggy due to lack of sleep, a whirlwind of change and everyone's emotions running high. Our little pink bundle arrived in the early hours of Sunday morning. She is lacking in the willy department, which is definitely a new one for this house! She is of course adorable and scrummy, and she has many pink & flowery, cute & frilly outfits to be dressed up in. We do indeed have a daughter.

The boys love her already. They come into our room in the morning, and pretty much queue up for their cuddles and kisses with her. One of them sings Rita Ora's R.I.P to her. One of them just snuggles her. One of them rubs her head in the way you just don't really do with a newborn, and one of them laughs at her bottom burps and brings her hammers and torches to play with. She is a much loved little daughter and sister.

I was thinking about how loved she is while tending to her last night. It was one of those nights where sleep was a far away dream from the actual reality. I really wanted to sleep, and everything was as it should be to attain sleep; comfy new Christmas pyjamas were on, separate duvet from the husband was ready (a must in this season), the house was quiet, the lights were off, the pillows were plumped, and the moon was dimly glowing but there were these noises from a little one who hadn't read the memo on how to act at nighttime. First there was the cute cooing noises, then the snuffly hedgehog noises, then the 'am I choking...you should check on me' noises, then the sound of a head turning from side to side, 'rooting for a boob' type noises, and then a noise which the boys would have been proud of from their little sister, as her nappy was filled. She then repeated this whole range of noises once more as she was clean, fed and settled back into her Moses Basket.

As the clock on my phone reached higher numbers, and as the the moon started to make it's descent, I realised that we had indeed spent most of the night together in one way or another. I think I had dozed off, slouched with my head on the side of her straw basket and my hand protectively on her tummy. I was zombiefied and achey, reacting on auto pilot and definitely frayed but yet I looked at this beautiful little one and continued to have such love for her.


I realised in a sightly cloudy moment that that's how God looks at me. So far, my daughter hasn't sinned against me, but she has thrown in some difficulties, some pain, some sleep deprivation and some bad smells, but she is my daughter and I simply love her very dearly. What I have thrown at my Heavenly Father has been far worse; sin, disobedience, taking Him for granted, the 'It's not fair' syndrome, lack of time and attention and so much more, and yet I am still His daughter and He still loves me very dearly. He still watches over me at night, with His hand protectively over me. And this truth mixed with His wonderful strength and grace will carry me through this new tired, pink season.

When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world. 

John 16:21

Behold, children are a heritage from the LORD, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate. Psalm 127:3-5