This is very true. I only have 3 right now but already my stingy little heart has broadened towards other kids (and people in general). I guess having children breaks a woman down in some ways, but builds her up in others. And what a lovely analogy for how God loves all of us. Great post.

Love your last line…it’s too long for a bumper sticker though (bummer).

Our first child is four months old.  My husband always says, “Just because I’m biased doesn’t mean our kid isn’t objectively the cutest baby in the world.”

We know it’s not really true, but it’s fun to think so just because we love him.

Yes.  It is staggering when we think about it to realize that each of us is a unique creation of God. All He asks of us is to know, love, and serve Him.

Hahaha… So true. I am the youngest of nine, my mother who is now 78, still truly, deep down in her loving heart, believes that her children and grandchildren have a certain touch of perfection that no one else possesses.

Great post, Simcha.  It makes me think of two things: 1) why the youngest is always the coolest. Of course, I may be a bit biased as a youngest child, but there is a side to the youngest personality that comes from being considered ordinary, and having maybe one dozen pictures from a lifetime while the oldest has every event- impressive and NOT- chronicled in video AND photo.  The lack of pressure to perform for young, anxious parents allows the younger ones to do things in their own time, gives them a perspective of what is, in fact, important (because if something is a big deal, you know its a BIG deal) and 2) a quote from a friend of mine- “God loves you because of who He is, not because of who you are.”  I may not have it totally correct, but its the general idea of that quote.

For reasons of both environment and health, I just did not get out much when my oldest was a baby.    I’d seldom meet other babies but when I did, I’d think there was something wrong with them.  Seriously.  However, in contrast to pretty much everybody else here, I never thought my very early talker and reader was special.  My kid was normal, their kids were stupid.  Now, however, I meet babies and I see they’re all special and cute and funny and I love them all (and believe me, I’ve had quite a few uh, “paste eaters” since my first).

If, as mothers do, I think my son looks perfect, and he looks to have gotten all his features from me (except for the curls in his hair), does that make me conceited?  I do love his giant blue eyes though, because they’re pretty, and because it’s hilarious when he studies a new face and everyone remarks on his neglect of blinking.  I’m like you; even before I had him though (and of course now, still), I always made faces and smiled at pretty much every baby in public, and the ones at his daycare.  I would ask to hold other people’s babies if I didn’t think it would creep the heck out of them.  Even on a not particularly noteworthy baby, the shape and proportion of the features, and the innate happiness at a smiling face is just so wonderful.

And your points about the real reason why we love babies and why we should love others (as God does) is excellent.  Any other reason (no matter how solid it seems) can be taken away, so resting our identity on our God-given dignity is the only way to go :).  Wishing your #9 a very happy birthday soon!

The corollary is that all newborns are ugly.  But beautiful because they are ours

This is beautiful, thank you.  The truth is simple, and it liberates us from so much “spinning our tires in the mud”.  I too fretted and fussed over my first born.  Parents have a way of extending their egos through the first few kids.  Now I can see that they are all unique, even though they were raised by the same two (flawed) parents.  There are the extroverts, the introverts, the ones with feet on terra firma, the dreamers…the ones handy with tools, and the ones who can’t make a key turn in a lock like their mother, the self conscious and the ones lacking a filter…the one that couldn’t really speak until five who is brilliant and slightly OCD.  The one who thinks F’s are just fine, but pulls A’s without effort.  The ones who will write, the ones who will crunch numbers, the ones who will do both… The one that never had a temper tantrum, and the one who entered the world screaming and hasn’t stopped.  The one who smiled at birth, content to observe, and who didn’t show a temper until the first grade.  The one who would probably audition for “Jackass”, and the one who is terrified of danger…The one who couldn’t master stick figures, and the preschooler who drew beautiful ball gowns, hanging with the proper perspective in an open closet…
They are all so different, that I can’t take credit for much.  Their souls clearly have another source.
While we are more laid back now about the mechanics of raising our big little brood, we are not jaded. On the contrary, we have never been more aware.  Whispering a “fiat” in our souls, that another might still come, is still a blissfully sacred affair.

Pat, that’s what my husband says (but I disagree). He doesn’t understand at all why parents send out those hospital photos of their newborns. It makes him shudder. Then again, he thinks babies with lots of dark hair are an affront to nature and beauty. All our babies are sparsely blonde, of course, as is proper for a baby. Can’t commit about eye color since we have all shades.

It is a relief to realize we don’t have to be anything special for our parents and Our Heavenly Father to love us. Although to strive for specialness because of love of them would seem to be fitting gratitude.

Even baby saliva is cute, at least from where I sit.

Hah.  I remember when my oldest was a very young toddler, and we were friends with another family that had a toddler born the exact same day.  The mom and I got together a lot, and sometimes I’d watch her son if she had a doctor appointment.  One time I was putting the other boy’s shoes on, and he was sitting on my lap, and I was struck by how…wrong…his head smelled. Not smelly, not dirty, he was very clean and well-scrubbed, but I was so used to my own boy’s smell, that this kid smelled wrong. Why did my child smell delightful, better than a donut shop, while other kids smelled off?  My husband maintains it’s a mechanism hardwired into parents so we can find our own child no matter what.

“Then again, he thinks babies with lots of dark hair are an affront to nature and beauty.”

Hey, Katie, *I* was one of those babies! I’m of Asian descent.  There is no way on God’s green earth that I’m going to be “sparsely blonde. . . as is proper for a baby.” :P I hope your husband is joking, else he needs to get out more.

“It is a relief to realize we don’t have to be anything special for our parents and Our Heavenly Father to love us. Although to strive for specialness because of love of them would seem to be fitting gratitude.”

I’d been asking myself this question a lot of late, and certainly before I had a real conversion experience:  I’ve been blessed with a lot, certainly with an education and a strong intellect that I offer up every day so as to better ask God how I can use them (at present, I’m trying to complete a doctoral dissertation).  I certainly asked myself if, say, I’d be “useless” or “nothing” if something happened that I couldn’t complete it or didn’t garner accolade after accolade.  Am I some sort of “failure” because I haven’t got or achieved x, y, or z that some of my other relatives have?  So of course the temptations of the world nag at me:  I’m in a rather competitive field, and such is concupiscence.  And I’ve already experienced how pride can turn all of that in upon itself.  What has been an ongoing learning experience is to recognize how freeing it is to see everything that I’ve been given as a gift for which I am responsible for using wisely and in a way that’s pleasing to God. Gratitude, after all, is not just about appreciating the nature of the gift and using them to the best of our abilities, but also the giver, and all gifts are meant to be shared.  And unpacking how to do that is a daily endeavor, because sometimes, appreciation of a gift really does take time. 

I have encountered parents who are well-meaning in that they rightly want to see their children succeed and do them proud.  But I have also seen such parents abuse that by making their children’s endeavors and successes All About Them, and/or trying to force a square peg into a round hole:  for example, it’s not exactly “smart” or “bright” to do this, that, or the other thing that seems to be lucrative when you’re not really any good at those things, precisely because you’re better at or meant for something else, and not to find out is a gift wasted.  One has to pay the bills, but living isn’t just about making a living and “doing stuff.”  Also of importance is one’s family’s relationship with their “stuff” and conspicuous consumption.  Helping the family make ends meet is one thing, and there is often that niggling feeling of wanting to “belong” and to “fit in.”  But trying to make sure that your family somehow has “one of each” when it comes to the more lucrative professions, as certainly can be the case in many an immigrant family, can be nothing short of annoying, if not silly (there’s an article over at TheCatholicThing that talks about the Christian versus the bourgeois approach to an education, wherein the Christian always asks about the orientation of that education toward ultimate ends, whereas education for the bourgeois is mostly something to “have” or acquire “just because.” The article is nothing short of instructive).  Mom and Dad might want you to be an attorney, but what if God really wants you to be a priest? (plus, what if you end up being both?)  And we are asked constantly Who it is we belong *to*, and Whom or what we are to truly “fit into.”

My three are already outdoing their peers in being bearers of my genes into the future. And, that’s just in elementary school. Wait until they get to college and start having kids of their own! :)

@Anna Lisa “Their souls clearly have another source.”

Thanks for that.  I might write it up on a card for when I’m feeling either too frustrated or too proud.

As has been noted more than once at today’s post, God made us to serve Him (largely by doing good for even His “least brethren”). God has indeed created everything for His glory. Yes; but none other than Thomas Aquinas has pointed out that it’s for OUR sake, our greater happiness, not for His own, that He thus seeks His own glory: “Deus gloriam suam quaerit non propter se, sed propter nos.” (Summa Theol., II-II, Q. 132, art. 1, ad 1)

Interestingly, Grandchildren and even Great-grands are also very cute when infants.  Sometime around two years old, they seem to learn the word “NO!” and what it means. At some stage after that, the cuteness tends to dissipate.
We still love all of them despite the occasional “Noes”.
And for some reason, we believe that all 12 of our grandchildren are exceptional, but in different ways.
TeaPot562

Its funny because my son (5 months) really does turn heads in grocery stores and everywhere else we go (he is a red head). I guess he really is unusually cute, but I’d love him just as much regardless.

As an adoptive mother, I always felt a little bit more freedom about gushing over my son’s cuteness, since I can’t take any credit for it.  And I will admit that I have on occasion had a smug thought when people gush over a baby who I’m absolutely certain is nowhere near as cute as mine!  We mothers are a barrel of laughs sometimes.

As an adoptive father, I’ve tried to keep their adoptive status from both my sons, despite the fact that they came to us as older children.  I’ve been quite successful.  They both really want to kill me.

We have an open adoption.  My son, at almost 5, is well aware that he’s adopted.  I’d rather he hear it from me than have it dropped on him as a bombshell when he’s older, by other people who are also well aware that he’s adopted (such as our family, friends, etc;  I can’t expect all those people to keep such a secret or to keep their kids from slipping it, and anyway, I think my son has the right to know about his origins).

Claire, God bless you and your family.  I don’t know if I could handle that.

Lovely post, Simcha.

Like the author of the bumper sticker, I thought it didn’t mean anything that God loves me, because He loves everyone. But when I grew to understand how much we love each of our children because they are ours, I became able to glimpse how wonderful God’s paternal love for me (and you, and everyone) is. We don’t have to earn love, we come into being because of Love.

A writer I interviewed once wrote in his conversion story that he had what he called an encounter with God while he was walking in nature. Then he realized that all the things he had done to earn love had not been necessary. He had been swimming in an ocean of Love his entire life. God loved him because he was God’s child, not because he’d gone to Harvard and excelled at economics. And God loves us all with a parent’s love even if we have physical or mental defects or straight hair :-).

Thanks Matt!  The good part is that it’s all under my control.  In our contract, the only thing we agreed to was to send a letter and pictures twice/year.  Any further contact is at my discretion.  So far we’ve had two visits (which have each lasted a few hours), a few phone calls, and we exchange letters and pictures frequently.  But if at any point I decide that it’s in my son’s best interest to reduce the contact, I can make that decision without getting any type of permission.  So in essence, my husband and I are the parents, and we call the shots.  Which might sound like I’m on a power trip, but the bottom line is that as my son’s mother, I want the final say in any decisions about how he is raised, because I don’t want to compromise on our family’s standards of morality among other things.

I’m famous at the supermarket for rolling in with my roisterous crew.  One day I came in at night by myself.  The clerk there, a very nice lady, asked “how are the boys.”  So we started chatting.  In the course of our discussion, I mentioned “their mother.”

Well, she automatically assumed I was talking about their birth mother!  We had this whole conversation at cross purposes (which really exasperated me).  Finally I spelt it out for her: my wife is their mother.  (She certainly deserves the title, on prayers and perseverence alone.)  The nice lady reared back, reflected and said, “Oh, I’m sorry.  I get it now.”

It’s amazing how many people don’t get it.  I’m their father as much as if they sprang from my head, like Zeus and Minerva.  In fact, they need to know this unambiguously.  They need to know that they are mine, and we are theirs - way beyond their doubts and fears.  (Well earned doubts and fears, I might say.)

Obviously, they are aware of their adoptive status.  (My prior statement was a bit of hyperbole.)  But my job is to erase that perception in their heart and in their mind.  Do I do it?  God only knows.

My son’s knowledge of his adoption hasn’t diminished his perception of or acceptance of me as his mother.  It also has not diminished my own perception of being his mother.  Most of the time we both forget that he’s adopted.  Not that I have any illusions of having carried him for 9 months, but it usually just feels like he dropped from the sky into my arms.  That being said, I don’t want to trivialize the role of biology, or reduce his birthmother to just a vessel.  I want him to know about his origins, and I don’t feel threatened by them.  But, I totally relate to what you’re saying about how some people don’t “get it”.  It drives me crazy when people (medical people, etc) ask me questions about “his mother”.  I want to scream “you must be referring to his BIRTHMOTHER, because I’M his MOTHER!”.  But I don’t let the ignorance of other people affect how I perceive myself as a mother, and I don’t need to prove anything to others in order to feel like his mother.  My biggest worry is how he might be affected by overhearing those types of comments.

I fully appreciate what you’re saying Claire.  God bless you and your son - and your burgeoning clan!

WHAT?!  She’s almost ONE?  You just had that baby yesterday!  I’m positive!

On further reflection, I do remember that I was pregnant when I read she was born, and since I now have a seven-month-old (how did THAT happen?!), I guess this is within the bounds of credibility.  But still.  These kids need to cool it with all this growing-up nonsense.