From a Fetus to a Newborn; the First Cry

I heard a baby cry in church yesterday, actually there were a lot of unhappy babies, but it was that first one that got my attention. I imagine infants have outbursts during almost every service, but this one little cry, so frantic and upset, startled me as I sat with my own silent son squirming in my belly. It awakened me into the reality, that soon, in a matter of mere weeks or months, Zy, our peaceful fetus, will be jolted from his own tranquil existence. That someday, this contented child will also cry and fuss, and be deliriously upset. 

I'm sure I knew this already, I must have thought about the first time he'll cry. But I hadn't thought about the fact that he's never cried before. This little guy, nearly as whole as the rest of us, just tinier and possibly cuter, has never known anything but serenity. What is the difference between his world and that of the newborn just a few days older than him wailing with panic just down the aisle?

The difference is not their number of days of development. If Zy comes today he will likely cry within minutes, if he comes in three months he'll do the same. Until then, however, he will remain as happy as a clam shelled up in my womb, twirling around banging into the walls that even as they encroach on his space, bring him comfort and security. Because every single one of his needs and desires is being met and has always been met. 

There are so many reasons that baby who was crying might have been distressed. She may have been hungry. She may have been cold or possibly too warm. She might have had a wet diaper or maybe a stomachache. She could have been frightened. She could have been overly tired. Or maybe she was just lonely...

For all of his nearly seven months, Zy has had every one of those needs met 24 hours a day. He has yet to want for anything. He's been fed so well he's never known hunger. His atmosphere has been kept at the perfect temperature such that he's never known a chill. He's been bedded down so luxuriously, padded between the pillows of my placenta and bladder that he's likely never had an itch and never felt pain. He amuses himself with somersaults and his umbilical cord so nicely that he's probably never even experienced boredom. As he rests and grows without the nuisance of diapers and clothing, his environment is the most hospitable anyone could ever ask for. Always right with me, next to my heart, he's never even known what it's like to be alone.

In Unwrapping the Greatest Gift, Ann Voskamp beautifully captures the difference between that newborn's fear and baby Zy's flawless trust,

"All fear comes from thinking that somewhere God's love will end." 

Zy will soon come into this outside world and learn what each one of us has decided for ourselves; that there is something to be afraid of, that God will let us down.

That first little squeal we'll hear from him, as the air touches his body, will be a bittersweet moment. A joyous occasion as we're reassured that his lungs can do their job and he can survive on the outside. But also a sad reminder that he too has believed the lie that God's love will end. And he, like the rest of us, will spend much of the rest of his life trying to unlearn that untruth, and remember how to be anxious for nothing and rely on Jesus to meet his every need.

Oh how I hope to be as competent a mother when this precious little one is no longer "safe" in my womb. But I recognize that, inevitably, I will fail to satisfy him many times. It's so reassuring to know that his Heavenly Father will never fail him...

Philippians 4:6-8