THE BABE

Jimmy and Diane Crabtree lovingly hold their newborn baby

Chuckwa Don....a moment of pride

February 26^th, 2015 (written by my daughter Grace on the day her son Henry was born)

Henry August Pshigoda graced us with his presence on February 26, 2015 at 11:15 a.m. as the snowflakes turned thick and heavy. Throughout my pregnancy the words MIGHTY! AND REJOICE! would blare in my head. Mighty, indeed. He is tiny weighing in at a mere 7 lbs. 14 oz. but he is surely mighty. He found his way into this world swiftly and boldly and cried the moment we set eyes on him. Seconds later he was nursing with full force and the undoubted ‘ruler of our hearts’. 

His namesake is a German/Russian potato farmer I never had the pleasure of meeting. I have been told he was somber and hardworking and stoic, as is his grandson, my husband and my partner in this life and all the ones before and after it. The father of this child and my second chance to do it right, to do it forever.  The single person who causes me to look in the mirror every day and want to be better and know that I am my best.

I knew long before Henry burst into our lives that day, that he was special. Blessed, anointed, a child held in God’s hands, an old soul and the truest of gifts. In all the whirlwind that is child birth, I felt a strong presence of the Heavenlies in the delivery room that day. I believe I even spoke the words out loud…perhaps Henry August himself, his wife Pauline (Ashley’s beloved grandmother) are near. Angels delivered him into our arms and I could keenly sense our great cloud of witnesses cheering us on. He is a miracle and a gift and a combination of all that is good in both of us. Here to remind us of the race that is set before us. To remind us to shed the heavy cloak of our past sins and mistakes and to start anew. 

Running with such might and force towards all that is good and lovely and angelic. I can and will always remember looking around the hospital room that day and envisioning the faces of those who have gone before us smiling and clapping and whispering of his beauty and might; rejoicing as he left them to be our son. The love and grace of the past year and the jet black Mohawk atop his perfect head has forever changed my soul and changes it again and again every day. 

Mighty. He is mighty. I will forever rejoice.

‘Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us.’-Hebrews 12:1

When Chuckwa’s life began February 11, 1976, I know without a doubt he was loved, felt loved, experienced love, reciprocated love…then and now.

Chuckwa 9 days old

In my soul of souls I do believe that every mother feels and experiences this emotion as she holds her newborn baby.  She is full of hope and promise for a bright future and special life.  I believe that this is an innate desire that dwells in her heart as she holds him to her breast.  I believe that connection she feels to her newborn never goes away...no matter what. I believe that love and connection can be a very powerful thread that somehow and sometimes, will knit together tears in the cloth that may seem impossible to repair.  But possible, always possible, for a mother....and God.

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
 My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.
Psalm 139: 13-16