Even though I’ve forgotten a bit of those first few weeks and months after Little Mister was born four short years ago, I still remember the night before and that first night with a new baby in my arms.
I remember not realizing I was having contractions, and then panicking when they became stronger.
I remember worrying when Little Mister came so fast that the doctor walking down the hall didn’t even make it in the room.
I remember my husband falling asleep in the post-partum room because he was “so tired.”
I remember watching the clock and timing every feeding, timing every diaper change, and timing every moment so that I followed the appropriate schedule.
I remember getting only a few moments sleep – both because of the strict feeding schedule and also because there was suddenly a piece of me missing from my body. It was as if a part of me was no longer there and my brain was still searching for it. I spent more time watching Hallmark Channel Christmas movies and nursing than I did sleeping those first few nights.
I remember holding my little baby’s hand and watching him sleep peacefully. I remember thinking how small and precious he was.
I remember having a mixture of amazement and terror at what was before me. I had now been tasked with raising this little human to become an amazing man. I am responsible for teaching him right from wrong, ensuring he shows kindness to others, and demonstrating love and peace.
We give birth to these tiny gifts from God, whether from ourselves or from our hearts through adoption. God trusts us to guide them and love them. From that moment on, we are no longer the focus of our lives. Starting on that very first night, our lives suddenly center on someone else. Those tiny fingers hold a world of possibilities and we, as mothers, spend the first night holding their hands, outlining their fingers in ours. We memorize their faces and count their breaths. All in that first night, we make an agreement with God to take on the world for the gifts He has given us.
The first night is a roller coaster of emotions.
I was thinking about all of this as my son’s fourth birthday approached, and it dawned on me that Mary must have been feeling similar things that night Jesus was born. She was suddenly responsible for raising and guiding a tiny baby to become such an important man. Yes, he was the Son of God regardless of being her child, but that doesn’t take away from her responsibility as His mother.
“But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.” Luke 2:19Even Mary kept the events of the night of Jesus’s birth close to her and stored in her memory for her life.
Mary doesn’t make many appearances in the Bible. In fact, she is only mentioned a grand total 19 times, the majority of those times in reference to the story of Jesus’s birth. And yet, her work as a mother didn’t stop there. She was still responsible for raising Jesus and helping to shape him to become our Savior.
I imagine that, during that first night that Jesus was born, Mary worried about her newborn baby. She probably fumbled a few times in trying to change him or swaddle him. She maybe struggled to get him to latch well or maybe had a few moments where she struggled to calm him. There were probably a few moments when it wasn’t such a “silent night.”
Mary suddenly had this tiny gift from God. In that first night, she traced her baby’s features, held his tiny hands, counted his fingers and toes, and agreed to take on the world for her son. Mary was a mother just like all of us. Just like all of us, her life suddenly centered around her new baby boy.
It doesn’t take many appearances in the Bible to know the influence that Mary must have had on her son. We don’t need know the intimate details of that night and her parenting style. We don’t need to know, because we have evidence in Mary’s dedication to her son through the amazing works he did.
God wouldn’t have just picked Mary randomly. He would have picked her because He knew she would guide Jesus in a way to do His good works, to be the light of the world. He knew that she would be a mother who would teach her son faith and love for all, never judging or harming others. It’s because I know this that I can know how Mary was, regardless of how many times she’s mentioned in the Bible.
Just as we, as mothers, sometimes feel as though we are in the background or the people standing behind and supporting our children, so did Mary. It is in this way that we are all the same as mothers. We have a bond that starts that very first night. A bond that means we are not less than because we are not the center of a story, but rather more than because we are the support and guiding force of something much bigger than ourselves.
On the first night of Little Mister’s life outside of my body, that December 18th four years ago, I have faith that God chose me to raise him in a way of faith, guiding him to love and show kindness to others. My son isn’t the savior, and I’m not the Virgin Mary, but I know I have that bond in common. I have the bond of the first night – that first night of fear, that first night of love, and that first night of faith. It’s the first night of motherhood.