Two Baptisms

A Baby's Baptism is a Baptism for the Parents, Too...

By the time you read this, we will have baptised our newborn daughter. Preparations for her baptism have inevitably reminded me of when we baptised our son, now a toddler, just over a year and a half ago. I was then a first time parent, and was struggling immensely with the sleep deprivation. I’m struggling this time around as well, but at least we now have help from family, whereas back then we were living abroad and had no one who could pitch in and ease the burden of sleeplessness. Providentially, one of the students at the university where my husband was teaching at the time (Molly, I’m talking about you, if you’re reading this) offered to put me in touch with her mum, in case I wanted a visit and advice about dealing with a newborn. I only ever saw Molly’s mum on two occasions, when she came for that visit, and on the day of my son’s baptism, but her kindness and her words to me haven’t left me, nor are they ever likely to. She told me that having a child is like a baptism of fire. She reassured me that, practically speaking, I was doing all the ‘right’ things to take care of my baby, but that it was normal to feel completely overwhelmed by the intensity and sheer exhaustion that a baby brings. You’d think hearing someone confirm aloud how difficult a task is would be discouraging, but it had the opposite effect for me. I remember finding a sense of peace knowing that even more experienced mothers found parenthood, especially the newborn stage, an extremely challenging exercise in self-sacrifice.

So, my first baptism of fire was with my son. Although this is my second time dealing with a newborn, it feels like I’m going through a baptism of fire all over again. I am absolutely in love with my daughter, and could stare at her face for hours. But I’m also absolutely exhausted, and would give anything to have her sleep just a little bit longer, to have to nurse her one less time a day. I have moments when I feel very selfish, and resent that my time is not my own, but hers. My entire routine revolves around her needs in a way that makes it impossible for me to think of her as a separate person from me, or of myself as a person existing for anything other than to take care of her. This is beautiful. It is also overwhelming. I know this season of life will pass, and that I one day will sorely miss it. And yet there are moments, during the worst hours of middle-of-the-night cluster feeding, when I don’t feel capable enough, I don’t feel up for the task of motherhood. I have many times had the distinct thought, ‘Why has God entrusted this child to me? I can’t provide for her as well as someone else would.’ All these thoughts, the feeling of being overwhelmed, it’s all part of the baptism of fire. Parenting is truly the most difficult job you can do, but it makes you an immensely less self-absorbed person, and it makes you grow in virtue like few other experiences. For me, it has also made me grow much, much closer to God. I find that prayer comes more easily, I find myself believing more deeply that God loves me and wants to help me carry out the task of raising my children.

Although my daughter is the one being received into the church on the day of her baptism, having her is a deepening of my baptism, too. In fact, when I say that my children have made me grow closer to God, what I really mean is that my children and I are growing closer to God together. If you’re the praying sort (which I think most of you are), and especially if you are yourself a mother, keep me in your prayers over the coming weeks, as my husband and I try to grow in patience through the sleepless nights, and to become more Christ-like as parents. And pray for our baby daughter, as she enters the Church.