A kick in the seat; a knock at the door

By Julie VanSpall

Any mom can attest to the emotional thrill of feeling her baby's first movements. Initially these little flutters, subtle signs of new life, are apparent to mothers alone. They serve as an intimate contact between mother and child, and as empowering reminders of a mother's role in God's creative plan.

As babies grow, kicks can be felt (and sometimes even seen!) externally, affording others the opportunity to share in the miracle, but these movements are felt most fully and most regularly by mothers. No matter how hard the kicks become, no matter how many times one is elbowed right in the rib cage, pregnant women never tire of experiencing tangible evidence that their babies are alive and well.

These movements, while not always physically comfortable, do provide emotional comfort and, above all, a privileged connection to a soul whose face we've yet to see, whose voice we've yet to hear.

As with everything in life, perspective is crucial. For me, kicks in the womb have always been welcome; kicks from a toddler have not. When my second child was a preschooler, her car seat was installed directly behind the driver's seat in our van. As we completed school drop-offs and errands, quick looks in the rearview mirror would give me glimpses of her pretty smile; a few minutes behind the wheel also allowed me to feel the rhythmic thumping of her feet on the back of the seat.

The kicks weren't always hard, but they would eventually get on my nerves. I'd politely ask her to stop because of the distraction she was causing. I'd kindly remind her that her shoes were dirtying the van's upholstery. She'd stop, temporarily; then, every so often, the kicking would resumem and every so often I'd lose my patience.

Over time, with the children growing and progressing to different car seats, our van's seating arrangement changed. I no longer had a "kicker" behind me, but while this modification should have been refreshing, it went virtually unnoticed.

Then, one day, my niece joined us in the van. She stretched her legs and bumped my seat several times. It didn't feel great, but instead of causing frustration, the kicks aroused a gush of sentimentality. I recalled the days when my own little girl had been so much "littler." I realized that these irritating movements weren't really that "irritating" after all, and I guiltily wondered why I had made such a big deal out of nothing.

Since then I have kept my mouth shut whenever a child has innocently kicked my seat. I have chosen to view these taps as privileged contact, and as one of those behaviours I simply need to "let go."

Kicking the seat really wasn't much different from kicking in the womb; it was my perspective that had been tainted. Toddler kicks are obviously harder and less comfortable than fetal movements, yet I was still the only one who could feel them.

Since I had many other physical reminders that children were in my life, I had failed to consider that maybe my child was subconsciously (or even deliberately) seeking to remind me of her important role in the midst of her siblings. Our relationship was and always will be individual. She will forever remain a miracle in this world: my "baby."

My young children are growing and changing so quickly, and many pet peeves are simply short-lived phases. If I think of myself during these phases, and forget that my children need to maintain contact with me and receive my attention, their actions will cause feelings of annoyance.

If I think of my children and the fact that I'm privileged enough to have them in my life (and in my van!), then I will embrace everything, including seat-kicking, just as I embraced the kicking, elbowing, and hiccupping in the womb.

Perhaps when my children give me a kick in the back, Someone Else is really giving me a gentle tap, reminding me to live in gratitude and in the moment.

"Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears My voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him and he with Me.... He who has an ear, let him hear what the Spirit says" Rev. 3:20 - 22.

At this time in my life, I am continually called to "hear what the Spirit says," as I parent three active children and as I marvel at being kicked in the bladder by another small blessing.

I pray that my responses and decisions will not dismiss His call. I ask for the perspective to accept life's lessons with wonder and emotion, just as when I have felt my unborn children move within me.

May I be blessed with openness, and a heart that is ready to answer, whenever God knocks at my door.