By David Sanders
The birth of child is always a perspective-shaping event. For me, who just became the father of five, the weight of the world is a load I’ve grown accustomed to carrying — but now, it feels like someone cranked up gravity’s pull.
The labor-and delivery-suite at our local hospital is a familiar place to me by now, but I thought my time there was finished. For a while, there seemingly was a revolving door for the Sanders family: Child No. 1 was born. Fifteen months, later No. 2 came along. After 19 months in the two-kid club, we traded in our man-to-man package for a zone defense when we added a third. And then, five years later, the Lord blessed us again, which necessitated yet another trip.
After No. 4 was born, the thought of any more Sanders children faded. After all, I had it all figured out after No. 3; we would have to deal with middle-child syndrome for a few years, then I would turn 45 and send my youngest child off to college. It was a good plan.
Financially, I estimated that by the time my 50th birthday rolled around, I would have bankrolled three college degrees and a wedding. I left room for the possibility of graduate school or for one kid taking off on an introspective year backpacking around Europe. But, at the very least, by my early 50s I should be able to focus on retirement, I thought.
Four summers ago, when there were still only three Sanders kids, the five of us — middle child and all — were on vacation back East. My wife suggested we begin planning our 2007 summer excursion. Again, easy! We would embark on the time-honored pilgrimage to sunny Florida where we would pay homage to the world’s most famous mouse.
Just a few weeks later, things changed.
I remember well the day; Arkansas was playing football against Vanderbilt in Nashville. A couple of minutes into the third quarter it looked like the Commodores, the opponent Hogs fans had begged to have put back on the football schedule, might defeat the once-mighty Razorbacks for the second year in a row. Ouch.
Sitting in my living room, a friend and I joined every other red-shirt-wearing Hog caller, suffering through thoughts of losing to the one-time SEC doormat again. Our faces were long.
My wife stood on the staircase landing. I could tell she wasn’t anxious to interrupt our pity party, but when she cleared her throat and I knew she needed my attention. I looked her way and noticed that quirky little grin. Trying to be inconspicuous, she pointed at the plastic wand in her right hand.
I knew what she was holding. I remember thinking, “Oh no, not again!” as I shook my head from side to side while urging her to try again. (My friend had no clue anything was going on.) She took four pregnancy tests that day — all positive.
That pregnancy was difficult. My wife had morning, afternoon and evening sickness; she’d never gotten sick once during the other three pregnancies. There were times when she could barely walk due to the baby pressing on her sciatic nerve.
Her heartburn was unbearable and her headaches were plentiful, even into the pregnancy’s waning hours. Perhaps this was God’s way of telling us four was enough?
Nonetheless, although it took a little while, the excitement about the arrival of Child No. 4 that had consumed my wife, daughter and our boys finally made its way to me. Looking back, the past two-and-a-half years have been spectacular. My little son, who until this week was our youngest, has injected so much excitement into our home. I wouldn’t want to attempt to imagine what life would have been without him.
So, when my wife informed me nine months ago that we soon would qualify for membership in the exclusive five-kid club, I was thrilled — no hesitation, no apprehension. Unlike with her previous pregnancies, during this one I haven’t focused on what we as a family would have to put off (like that trip to Disney World, or retirement) but instead my thoughts of what we would gain have consumed me.
Now I sit in our dark hospital room. My newborn son, who is even more beautiful than I could have imagined, is wrapped up and nestled next to his mother. My soul rejoices; thank God for the increased gravity!