The Rest of My Life Begins Now.

Number one: If you are friends with me on social media, I'm sorry. It's been an eventful week in my life, and I've been bombarding Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram with pictures to chronicle the event. If the pictures were set to animation, I'd bet you could watch the whole thing happen frame-by-frame.

And WOW, doesn't Hillary look beautiful? 

On Wednesday, October 26th, at 9:36 in the morning, my wife gave birth to our daughter, Elliot Katherine Smith.

The c-section went off without a hitch. At a little after 9:00, they took Hillary back to the operating room to start anesthesia. This was my cue to put on my "bunny suit": the canvas-like coveralls, mask, booties, and hat that I had to wear into the sterile environment.

I was barely in there ten minutes before we had a baby.

Hillary's probably not thrilled that I used this picture. I think it's beautiful. Don't you? 

I began the day excited. Ready. In great anticipation. And once she was born, everything was pretty much a whirlwind of activity. They cleaned her off, handed her to me and Hillary so we could hold her while they sewed Hillary up. Cue the tears of joy.

I got to carry Ellie Kate to the area where they test her vitals, make sure everything is working. After about fifteen minutes, I went to see Hillary in recovery. She was doing well, still a little out of it from the anesthetic. I responded to frantic texts from both our parents and let them know everyone was okay.

They brought us the baby, took us to our hospital room on the 4th floor (which was more like a hotel room than a traditional hospital room), and friends and loved ones soon arrived. People held her, hugged us. They brought food (thank goodness).

Ellie Kate even got to meet her big sisters. 

As the day wore into the evening, people left. Until that night, it was simply me, Hillary, and the baby. And thus began the most challenging, and rewarding, time of my life.

I don't want this entry to become an extended diatribe about my previous marriage. It's something I've talked about at length in older entries. If you're a first time reader, however, I'll abbreviate. Something like four years ago, I was married to another woman, who walked away from our marriage after a long period of distancing.

Here's the portion of the story many don't know.

The fall after my ex-wife left me, I was the assistant youth pastor at my church. Barely a day went by at that time without all my thoughts being directed at the hopeless and uncertain path my life had taken. So, when we took a few dozen middle-school-age youth on a retreat that September, I couldn't keep my mind from dwelling on the fact that I was no longer married, and the path I had laid out for my life had been irrevocably shattered.

I don't even remember what the theme of the weekend was. But one night during that retreat, during independent prayer time, I faced the hopelessness with God.

I wasn't married. I knew I wanted to get married again, and I knew God knew that, too. But I wasn't even remotely ready to date anyone. And once I started dating, how long would it take for me to find the one I wanted to marry?

I knew I wanted children. But I was already staring my 30th birthday in the face. After I found the elusive person I wanted to marry, how long would it be before she was ready to start a family? One year of marriage? Two? Five? Would I be facing 40 before I had a kid in kindergarten?

I remember sitting in the floor of a cabin during this prayer, with my arms crossed on a coffee table and my face buried in them, when that realization came to me. And I wondered... would I ever have children?

The moment that thought escaped my head, a literal pile of youth kids threw themselves on me, to pray over me. Their weight was literally enough to take my breath away.

Now, I'm not a person whom God normally speaks to in audible words. I think He knows how dense I am, and He knows that words would be too easy for me, so normally He speaks in much more indirect ways. But when He's got something to say, it's big. And this time, He said, "I will fulfill this for you one day. But until you have children of your own, these are your children."

Fast forward, four years and a month.

Hillary and I have had Ellie Kate home for three nights now. She's obviously not sleeping through the night yet; even worse, she's pretty much nocturnal from her months in utero. But we're adjusting: Hillary and I are playing tag-team at night right now, trading off who sleeps upstairs with her so the other can get a few uninterrupted hours. It's difficult, yes, but it's way easier with such a good tag-team partner.

I still haven't been able to convince Hillary to wear the face paint and spiked shoulder pads. 

There's simply so much to tell, because I am so overwhelmed with how new and amazing everything is. The days are starting to get away from me, though: I started this blog post two days ago, and am only now getting around to finishing it. More and more things keep happening, and I want to write about them but I simply don't have the time. So it's probably about time to end this post. 

There are certain things in this life that simply can't be understood without experiencing them, and I firmly believe having a baby is one of them. I have never been so swept-off-my-feet in love before, and there simply aren't words that can describe it unless you've experienced it yourself.

However, I don't have to go back to work until December 5th, so I'm sure I'm going to try with a few more blog posts before them. 

Until that time, take a nap for me and Hillary. 

I think Hillary and I have perfected the beautiful baby. The rest of the world should stop trying.