Know what’s crazy? Our daughter is eight months old! She says “dada” and “mumum” now, steals our hearts with gummy two-toothed grins, and grabs anything she can reach (including Daddy’s watch and Mommy’s hair). We love watching her feed herself little snacks while she sits up all by herself.
Emily is all-in when it comes to being a mom, and I love watching her take care of our baby girl, when it’s fun and when it’s exhausting. Emily unintentionally created, but now faithfully upholds, an after-dinner ritual of playing “Where’s Mama?” while Nyra squeals in my lap.
Daddy loves snuggling with Nyra when she feels like staying put (a rarity lately, making it extra nice when it does happen). She can’t decide if my wheelchair is an extension of my body or a jungle gym for her climbing pleasure. I don’t mind, because either way it’s adorable. Some days it’s really hard not being able to pick her up and toss her in the air or tickle her pudgy little tummy or read her books in silly voices - things I thought were required of every good father before I became one myself. As much as these unmet expectations hurt, I know objectively and hold on to the truth that fatherhood isn’t about what a man is or isn’t able to do – but rather about what he chooses to do with what he has. I can either choose to (and too often do) despair in the hardship of my family’s circumstances, or I can acknowledge the reality of our circumstances and how small and fleeting they are compared to the glory of what awaits us in our certain future with Christ in heaven (Romans 8:18, 2 Corinthians 4:17)
I’m still plodding along in therapy three days a week, making small gains and trying to stay encouraged, though progress is slow. We’re looking forward to seeing my parents soon, as they fly up in mid-September. It’s sure to be a time of fun, hopefully some conversation, and definitely much Nyra-spoilage.
Thank you all for reading and praying!
Lane (for Emily and Nyra too)