Are You Done?

"Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see." 

~ John F. Kennedy

There are a lot of questions we get when someone finds out we've got 12 kids. 

"You know how that happens right?"

"Are they all yours?"

"What kind of car do you drive?"

But the one we get asked most often is "Are you guys done?"

 

There may be no other question on earth where the gap in perception between the person asking and the person receiving the question is so large. For the person asking it, it seems like the most logical question ever. One that they've probably asked 100 times to a 100 couples after finding out they've had their 2nd or 3rd + kid. But as the receiver of the question, I must admit that it sounds like the craziest question ever.

Are we done?! Dude, we have 12 kids?!

You honestly think this was the plan? Hey babe, we just popped out baby #11, you know what that means... one more 'till we're done, per our arrangement."

The question used to bother me, but now I see it for what it is - an innocent and legitimately curious question that comes from just a totally different perspective on children and life in general. Not better, or worse... just different. And certainly not unusual. As a matter of fact, I was there myself for most my life. 

When Laura and I were dating we used to talk about the plan for our family when we got married. I wanted 2 kids... she wanted 4. We had all the plans... Let that be a lesson to you. As the old saying goes, "you want to make God laugh... tell him your plan".

Then we started trying to have kids.

After almost a year of trying unsuccessfully, and all the invasive tests to figure out why things weren't working, the doctors told us we may never be able to have kids. 

We went from taking fertility for granted, something we expected we could easily turn on and off, to the realistic possibility of never having our own children. That started to shift our perception. 

Obviously, the doctors were wrong, but for almost a year, we didn't know. We were terrified. We prayed. Prayed hard. I can still recite that St. Gerard prayer by heart. No longer, did we take having a child for granted. 

Then we started having kids. And it became real. 

The most real thing ever. 

When we talked about our plans for 2 kids... or 4 kids, they weren't real people. They were just an idea. 

They didn't have names, and smiles. They hadn't looked us in the eyes when they were sick and helpless... knowing we were their only hope to getting better. They weren't sitting in our laps, with our blood running through their veins and staring at us like we were their hero. They hadn't yet stayed up late into the night asking questions about life, hanging onto every word, trusting us to explain to them how the world works. 

Before all that, they were merely an idea... a part of our plan. 

But they weren't just an idea, they were real. Once in our arms, our perspective shifted even further.

These babies were just as real as I was.

Sure, they cried a lot, woke us up and required plenty of diaper cleanups - but they were as real as I was. They will grow up and live their lives. Lives, like mine, full of ups and downs. They will laugh until they cry and at some point cry themselves to sleep. They'll go to school, get married, and have children of their own someday. They'll experience the joy and beauty of the ocean and the mountains... and the pain and sorrow of sickness and death. 

They are not just an idea... they are real. As real as anything. 

And the only reason they exist... the only reasons they get to live this life? 

Because Laura and I decided they should. 

We turned left, where 99% of other couples turn right... and that made all the difference... for us... and them.

Earlier this year, Laura suffered our second miscarriage. We lost our son Patrick at 13 weeks. While we never got to hold him or look into his eyes, he was just as much a part of our family as the rest of our children. That experience brought our entire family closer. And while he never lived outside the womb, his soul is eternal. Our gift to him was his conception and the chance to live in heaven forever. In exchange, we received a prayer warrior advocating on our behalf. I can't wait to meet him, and his brother Peter one day and thank them for all their prayers.  

In the materialistic, secular culture that we are all currently marinating in, it's easy to lose sight of the eternal aspect of a child. Every material thing that I own on this earth will turn to dust one day. My cars, my home and every toy I can fit in my garage... they'll all rust, decay and disappear forever. But Peter, Patrick, Madison, Fiona, and all the Esshaki's... they will live forever. I think the world would be a better place if more people understood that reality. 

Children are not merely collectibles... a rite of passage or an accessory for marriage where you hope to gather both genders then shut it down. No... these are souls. 

Souls that will live forever. 

Souls that establish our place in the line of ancestors going back millennia and connect us to the thousands more that will ultimately come from their bloodline. 

Souls that when the final chapter of our lives are written, will have given us so much more than we will ever be able to give them. 

"Are you done yet?"

I hope not. 

"Well, how many kids do you guys want?!"

That's an easy one... 

All of them.