Category: Fatherhood

Dads Don’t Babysit

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Who wouldn’t want to watch this guy?

My wonderful wife, Nicole, is one of the greatest ICU nurses in the world. She’s too modest to admit that, so I will go ahead and put it out there. She works very hard three nights each week taking care of patients with high acuity (she taught me that term—it is a very nuanced term, it turns out). That means that three nights each week, she is out helping save lives from 7pm to 7am.

When people hear about Nicole’s schedule they often ask the same question. No, they don’t ask what led her to such a heroic profession. They don’t ask her how she works such crazy shifts and remains so kind and patient outside of work. They don’t usually ask about the perils of transitioning from nights to days when she is off work. People used to ask those kinds of things, but they haven’t been the typical questions since Jude’s birth.

The question that comes up these days often goes something like this: “Who babysits Jude while you work?” When the asker is told that I take care of him, the follow up question is often a puzzled, “Your husband babysits your son?”

That the man would take responsibility for caring for the baby is surprising to many. I had no idea that such an arrangement would appear to be so radical, and at first I was kind of frustrated by those who saw it that way. Of course I babysit my son. Who else should do it in my place? Why would I want for someone else to do it? Why on earth would I want to give up these precious moments with him if I don’t have to?

Sure, it would be easier to walk Scranton if I didn’t have to first strap on a (very girly-looking, damask print) baby carrier. To my surprise though, I don’t mind being the guy walking around my apartment complex parking lot with a baby wrapped up against my chest. I actually kind of like it. Seeing those big eyes staring up at me as we walk the dog is priceless. Plus, I’m proud of my son. I want people to see him, even if I look silly in the process.

Frustration with people over the issue seemed natural. That is, until I realized I may have agreed with them.

One evening while Nicole was working, I was pushing a stroller around Lowe’s. Jude had gone with me to the home improvement store to help me price power tools (they are far too expensive, in case you were wondering). As we strolled the aisles, I started to think about how great of a dad I must be. After all, many are shocked to find out that I take care of Jude by myself, and all of the other men appeared to have left their babies at home. There I was, babysitting my boy with a little help from Eddie Bauer (a fantastic product of a stroller). Maybe it was true. Maybe I am special.

But just when Eddie and I were about to get enormous egos, I had a realization. I was not babysitting Jude, because dads don’t babysit (I guess I had seen this somewhere and subconsciously tucked it away). Babysitters typically get paid. Babysitters go home when the parent returns. I was not babysitting. I was simply doing my job. I was simply being a parent.

When Jude is left in Nicole’s care, no one calls that babysitting. Why is it that when the baby is left with the dad people think that it is so commendable? Where is the commendation for the mom? I guess it’s absent because society sees moms as responsible for doing their job of caring for their children. Unfortunately, we often seem to ignore the other side of that coin: Dads are also responsible for caring for their children.

As our culture laments the absence of so many fathers, I fear that we fail to recognize that many of the fathers who are present in homes are actually pretty absent as well. Could it be that part of the reason that we see such failure on the part of some fathers is because we expect so little from them? I know that I have only been a dad for about 20 minutes and it is easy for me to say, but it seems to me that an involved father being a novelty is a pretty sad commentary on the family.

So, yes, I do keep Jude while Nicole is working, and sometimes while she is not. That should not make me special. If it does, then shame on the fathers of this world. Dads, we apparently have a serious PR problem.  A father taking care of his child on his own should not be seen as an innovation. We can and should do better.

Our wives should not be expected to carry the load of parenting alone. It’s not fair to them or to our kids. And fairness aside, if I may say so, it’s pretty foolish to push it all off on them anyway. Doing so will cause you to lose out on the incredible blessing of taking care of your child. I may only have about 20 minutes worth of parenting experience, but they have been some of the best minutes of my life. Believe me when I say that these moments are blessings that you do not want to forfeit.

Down Syndrome, Abortion, and My Hypocrisy

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Taken at 1 week old. Jude was born 10 weeks early. Photo credit goes to AK Photography.

I researched and wrote a report on Down’s syndrome when I was in the 10th grade. I use the term “researched” rather loosely, because I admittedly did very poorly in the way of scholarship. In fact, the very title of my paper betrays my ignorance of the subject at the time. I did not even realize that “Down’s” is incorrect terminology (the correct term is simply “Down syndrome”). I can recall little about the contents of the report itself, but I do recall how it ended. To paraphrase what I remember, “Perhaps one day researchers will find a cure, but until then 1 in every 691* babies born will have Trisomy 21.”

I had no way of knowing at the time, but my first-born child, Jude, would be that 1 in 691. The thought that I might one day have a kid with Down syndrome never actually occurred to me. I knew people growing up who had it. I knew people whose kids had it. Somehow, it never crossed my mind that 691 is not really that big of a number. It’s interesting to me the way that we tend to think about odds. Consider the way that people flock to gas stations to buy lottery tickets when there’s an unusually high jackpot at stake. “Someone has to win,” they say. Or think about how quickly the phone lines of a radio station will light up when listeners are promised concert tickets if they are the fifth caller. People tend to think that they will beat the incredible odds when in pursuit of a favorable outcome. They at least entertain the idea.

I have never purchased a lottery ticket or called a radio station hoping to score backstage passes. I have entered contests though. I have applied for scholarships. I have applied for jobs. I have pursued all kinds of things that, in reality, I probably had little chance of obtaining. Nonetheless, I optimistically went after them because they were things I valued, and they were things I honestly saw myself winning.

Interestingly enough, I never considered the possibility that I would win the genetic lottery and have a child born with Trisomy 21. Since Jude was born, I have considered why that might have been. Maybe it was because no one in my family had it. Maybe it was because the overwhelming majority of the people in my life were “normal”. Perhaps those reasons were part of the answer. Still, the more that I have considered why, the more I have come to conclude that the answer is not so innocent. Indeed, the answer probably paints an unfortunate picture of what my view of people with Down syndrome actually was.

That is not to say that I looked at the people I have known who have Down syndrome and thought anything particularly nasty about them. On the contrary, I assure you. At the same time, the fact that I never thought about such a person being in my family suggests to me that I lived with the assumption that I was somehow better. Or at least that having someone with Down syndrome in the family was not a desirable thing. People are always shocked when they get cancer because they never think it will happen to them. Young people are reckless because they think that they are invincible and above getting hurt. And I apparently saw Down syndrome as something that would never happen to me. In fact, the final line of my paper from 10th grade biology confirms that my view of individuals with Down syndrome was an ugly one. I suggested that it would be preferable that Down syndrome be cured (an absurd idea considering a syndrome is not a disease like cancer). That, perhaps, one day that 1 in 691 will be eliminated.

Actually, there is a way to eliminate that 1 in 691. Ironically though, it is a process that I have always claimed to abhor. Many do not hate it, though. Many see it as a perfectly legitimate way of keeping Down syndrome out of the family. You may have heard it said that God gives special children to special parents. I have to disagree with that. Not because I am so humble as to say I am not a special parent, but because most babies are aborted if they are diagnosed with Down syndrome (internationally speaking, although the abortion rate in the United States is about 30 percent).

I’ve come to realize that, for years, I hypocritically opposed those who suggested that chromosome abnormalities were grounds for abortion. I can remember seeing where the famous biologist Richard Dawkins tweeted the following about the “ethical dilemma” a parent expecting a child with Down syndrome may face: “Abort it and try again. It would be immoral to bring it into the world if you have the choice.” You read that correctly. He actually said that it would not only be a good idea to kill your child if they received a prenatal diagnosis, but that it would be immoral to grant life to such a child (to be fair, he did clarify his position later on, but he did not back down either). Such a position is beyond troubling, and Dawkins received push back from a lot of people. I happily shared my disdain for his callousness against real people on my Facebook page, satisfied that I had stood up to evil.

The problem is that I did not stop to think that I might one day face that “dilemma” myself. To be clear, we are of course pro-life and abortion would never have been on the table (indeed, it wasn’t). Still, as I bravely opposed Professor Dawkins from my laptop in the comfort of my living room, I did not do so because I knew I would gladly give life to the child I might have with Down syndrome. Again, it never even occurred to me that I might have such a child one day. Unlike the scholarships I knew I had a shot at, the hypothetical baby with Down syndrome wasn’t really a thought for me. I saw myself getting the things I wanted. I did not see myself getting the things I did not want. My outrage did not stem from a concern that Dawkins was threatening the personhood of children with whom I identified. I was not on the level of the people Dawkins would throw away. I was above them, a savior. My disdain was nothing more than self-righteousness.

Therein lies the hypocrisy. A child with Down syndrome is a precious life worth protecting, but a child with Down syndrome is not a life I saw myself actually being responsible for. I was opposed to Dawkins only superficially. He saw the life of a baby with Down syndrome as disposable. I didn’t even see the possibility of the life of my own son.

In November of 2015, everything changed. My wife, Nicole, was about 20 weeks pregnant when we found out that Jude’s development was atypical. When the doctor called to tell us that his lateral ventricles were dilated (I didn’t know what that meant either—Google it), I remember being somewhat in denial. We went to see a specialist who tested for chromosome abnormalities. He did not expect for that to be the actual issue due to family history and our young ages, and I didn’t really expect it to be anything like that either. Everything was going to work out fine, because it would never happen to me.

But it turned out that Jude did have an extra copy of Chromosome 21. It did happen to me. Suddenly, that hypothetical life that I so valiantly defended on Facebook was no longer so hypothetical. And do you know what’s surprising? After waiting a couple of very long weeks to find out what was going on with Jude’s development, news that it was Down syndrome ended up feeling like good news. My initial denial had transformed into fear for the worst, so finding out that he was going to be ok brought us so much joy.

Jude is a very young baby, and we do not yet know what kinds of things to expect developmentally. All that I know is that the life that I hold in my arms is a precious one. I have long held onto Psalm 139:13-14 as ammunition for my pro-life views. I now hold onto it as truth that I have experienced first-hand.

“For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well.”

I have found that the 1 in 691 is the most precious thing I have ever been entrusted with, and may that 1 never be eliminated. I reject the notion that God gives special children to special parents. However, Jude is most certainly a special child. As are all children. King David was right, God’s works are wonderful. My soul knows that very well now. I thank God that He allowed us to win the genetic lottery, even though I never even considered playing. I wouldn’t change a thing (or a chromosome) about my son. Dawkins was wrong, and so was I.

 

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*1 in 691 is the statistic as of May 25, 2016. I do not know if that was the exact figure I had in high school.

Please Come to Church With Your Kids

IMG_3513 (2) (2)I have been involved in youth and children’s ministry for about six years. As a leader, that is. In reality, as a life-long church-attendee I have been involved in those ministries since birth. While I was growing up, my parents prioritized church attendance and involvement above every other activity in life. They wanted us to know that putting Christ first meant putting other things second. My parents are certainly not perfect, and I know that they made mistakes while raising me and my siblings, but I think that they did us a great service by modeling that priority.

As a youth pastor, I am often perplexed by the priorities of the families that I serve. Many of the young people who have called me their youth pastor do not come from families who prioritize Christ and his church the way that my parents did. In fact, many of the kids that I have served (and presently serve) come to church without their parents. That fact certainly saddens me, but it is not what perplexes me.

I am perplexed by the way that many of the non-attending parents (sort of) prioritize church involvement for their kids. These are the parents who perhaps come to church a few times each year, but are very enthusiastic about their kids being at weekly Bible studies, attending activity events, and even going on mission trips during the summer.

I don’t want to over exaggerate the extent to which these parents desire church involvement for their kids. Church seems to be viewed like a positive hobby. That hobby, however, rarely takes precedent over things like family weekend trips, sports teams, or school. If one of the above is going to interfere with church, we are safe assuming that we will not see their child that week. This is also common with a lot of families whose parents actually do regularly attend church. There seems to be this paradox in which parents desire for their children to know the most important Being, but also do not see knowing the most important Being as the most important thing for their children. Perplexed? Me too.

Parents, I want to challenge your thinking on this. Consider what I am teaching your kids when you send them to church: There is an all-powerful God who has made the world and everything in it. The sins of the people God created have disrupted this world and communion with God, but in His love and mercy He has sent His Son to set things right and create a way for creation to be redeemed and restored. That, if true, is certainly the most important thing to teach your children. If untrue, then it is a lie that should be avoided entirely. What it cannot be is a mere hobby. It is either life-changing or it is not. If you believe it is the former, why would you behave as though you believe it is the latter?

To the parent who sends mixed signals about the value of a relationship with God, please reconsider your priorities. If you see church as the place where your kids can be equipped to grow closer to God, I get why you send them, but why don’t you come too? If it’s important for their lives, it is just as important for your life. And if you see it as the place where believers can be supported and encouraged to live the life that God has called them to live, why do you not make it more of a priority over things like sports or weekend getaways?

I am certainly no expert on parenting, but speaking as a youth pastor, believe me when I say that you are doing your children no favors by failing to prioritize their faith over other things. I have known too many kids who started out in my youth ministry with so much enthusiasm for their spiritual lives, only to fall out of church entirely because their parents directly or indirectly encouraged them to pursue other things. If God is real and Jesus is His Son, you better believe that you have a responsibility as parents to guide your kids to Him rather than away from Him. Please prayerfully get your priorities straight, for your kids’ sake, and for your own.