My First Baby is officially, as of May 23rd, a double-digit midget (translation-Faith turned ten-years old). Now that might be confusing to some because it makes absolutely no sense if you know the birth order of my kids.
Faith Whitney is my second child (out of three) and now carries the middle child banner after almost a decade of being the baby. After that long, you would think the middle child traits would be nominally apparent, but jealousy is such a strong emotion and even the most secure kid gets rattled when their role is replaced.
I’ve noticed Faith fights to claim her place, postures for attention and vacillates between big girl and lisping baby talk–all symptoms of a classic middle child. It’s tough being the sandwich kid in between the studly athletic older brother and a ridiculously cute toddling baby sister. I think of Jan Brady and her silly wigs, just trying to fit in and find her place.
So, as chief mother and encourager of my little tribe, I have decided to break with tradition and give her a new nick-name, First Baby. For many years Faith was indeed my baby, and instead of taking on the bitter and sassy middle child identity, I have decided to give her a new title, allowing her the distinction of feeling treasured instead of lost among the birth order.
Now, while this might sound coddling to some, I do confess a certain degree of parental guilt when it comes to juggling three kids. My position recognizes the recurring nagging feeling of mommy guilt because I haven’t been able to give my middle child the attention she craves now that there are three. The truth is I am outnumbered and Faith has genuinely lost some time and attention from the mommy bucket.
But, even though my hands are full, as all moms know, my heart has an endless amount of love for my little girl. So one of the things I decided I could do was to give her a special name. And when I hold her in bed at night as we cuddle and say prayers, I sense my effort is appreciated.
Clearly she is still the middle sister. Faith’s role has not changed, but her title has been tweaked a bit to boost her security as my beloved child. It’s a beautiful picture of what God does with us. The world calls us certain labels and He in turn tells us we are chosen, redeemed, and cherished. The circumstances in our lives don’t change, but the image imprinted on our heart, (if we choose to believe what God says is true about us) begins to define us more than the other titles. We operate differently because we are secure.
A recent story in the news caught my eye about a family who has refused to announce the sex of their child. The baby named Storm will be allowed to pick its own gender. On a million levels this disturbs me but mostly because we are created in the image of God, male and female he created them.
Little Storm will grow up without labels, without a gender even. His family, in an extreme effort to avoid the world’s identification and labels, has created even more insecurity for the child. In my opinion, this seems like another misguided attempt to play God and redefine the created order into some PC perversion of an alternative reality.
I understand the desire though. It’s the same reason I go out of my way to make up silly nick-names because I love my kids. It’s the yearning to experience the paradise we were created for. Something deep within our spirits strives to recreate that which was lost. Of course not being God, we distort in our effort to recreate beauty or in this case a world without labels.
Strangely enough, I imagine in about a year or two, the last thing Faith will want me to call her is a baby. And Storm in a few years will probably figure out his or her sex, despite his parent’s shroud of secrecy. Hopefully, both will find their true identity in Christ alone and ultimately that will be enough.
