A Parent's Love

I remember when we first found out about you. It was a rainy day in August. I looked down at that little plastic stick and watched with shock and awe as a plus sign faded into view. I knew then that our lives would never be the same.

We were small and had small money then. There was no question of our keeping and raising you. The only question was how can we provide for you in all the ways a parent should? I always thought it was terrible timing that we found out about you while I was between jobs. As the man of the house, it was my responsibility to provide for our new family. All I felt was shame, but I tried to hide it from your mother. She deserved to have the good life. You and her both. So I enrolled in some classes to build my resume.

Your father had interesting ideas about how he wanted to raise you. With both of us deeply involved at church, it was automatic that you should join us too once you were big enough to venture outside into the wide, wide world. I couldn't wait to see your happy face as you learned about eternal life and our savior, Jesus. But because that was many months away, I instead turned my thoughts on your first movements. Your kicks were strong and healthy. Our doctor assured us that the pregnancy was going along perfectly, even though you hit me hard with morning sickness at times. It was strange knowing that the sicker you made me feel, the healthier that meant you were.

At one particular doctor's visit, we were asked if we had yet thought of a name. It was simple. Nicholas for a boy, and Nicole for a girl. We couldn't settle on a middle name, so we split that responsibility. I would decide your middle name if you were a boy, and your mother would decide your middle name if you were a girl. Knowing ourselves as man and woman, it worked out well and we respectively chose Trevor and Anne. Do what you will with the information that you could've been Nicole Anne just as easily as you could have been Nicholas Trevor.

And how you pained me when the labor started! I'll spare you the details, but you were a big boy! At an amazing 10 pounds and 1 ounce, I was a little confused as to how it looked like you still needed to put on some baby fat. Our doctor was so proud. He was right when he predicted that you'd be one of his healthiest patients. I watched on as the doctor put you through a series of painless tests to make sure everything had developed correctly and once you had passed with flying colors (was there ever any doubt?), I finally got to hold you for the first time. I fell asleep with you in my arms.

After a while of watching your mother relax comfortably after a long labor, the doctor carefully pulled you from her cradling arms and asked me if I wanted a turn. I immediately agreed, but was so clumsy! Where was the class on how to hold a baby? The doctor assured me, though, that I was doing everything just fine. Your little fists stirred and your attention turned to me. I looked deeply into those blue eyes of yours and instantly knew that there was no going back. I was hooked on you, Nicholas Trevor Crommel. I was a father now.

Curious though you were, it was so easy to raise you! Little Nicky we called you for a while until we learned about that awful movie about devils and angels. We would have none of that. Only good Christian values in this household.

Your mother might have gotten off easy. Ever since the doctor announced that you were a boy at your birth it seemed like I got stuck with cementing the family values into you. I couldn't believe the rebel that came out of you when you turned two. Potty training was the last thing on your mind. But in the end, as all small children do, you eventually learned and gained one more skill in the long process of independence. Then strange things started coming back to us from your preschool.

You were assigned to Sister Abigail at the time. She was the one who dealt with children who were no longer infants, but not quite old enough to be left unattended. Her reports came back as "mostly playful, but seems to be more scared of boys than girls." She went on to say that opposite sex curiosity usually peaks around this age and that most little boys are scared of girls. But you didn't fit that description. Our brows furrowed. Could this be an early sign of....I can't even write the H word. I can't even think it. No, you'd never betray us like that.