My baby isn’t built like my other kids.
They are all skinny beanpoles. He’s not.
When Jonah was born he was a whopping 10 pounds, 7 ounces. As a toddler, he was stout with chunky cheeks and a protruding belly. He wasn’t exactly fat, he was solid—a little fire hydrant. People would comment that maybe he would be a football player one day.
When he started swimming on the swim team at the ripe age of 4, things changed. His soft belly hardened up. The tot suddenly developed some serious muscles and he’s had them ever since.
A woman at the pool asked me the other day how old my youngest was. When I told her he was 7, she said he was the first 7-year-old she had ever seen with six-pack abs.
So I was compelled to tell her the story of how we came to get Jonah.
Before Jonah was born, I had four miscarriages. Three were before my oldest, Maggie, was conceived, and one between the twins and Jonah.
Around the time we were trying to conceive again, a dear friend came to visit. It was his last visit because he was dying of AIDS. Before he was sick, our friend had been a big guy. When he ran marathons, he was always put in the Clydesdale division.
On this visit, he asked if I really wanted to have another baby and when I said yes, he asked if he could pray over me (he was a spiritual guy). In his prayer, he asked God to take his sick, racked body and replace it with a new life inside of me.
You probably get the gist. A few months later, our friend died and I learned I was pregnant with Jonah.
So when I look at Jonah and see his muscles, I’m always reminded of our friend Adam.
He gave us our little Clydesdale.
FranklyStein is a blog by Chesapeake Family Magazine editor Betsy Stein who lives in Catonsville with her husband, Chris, and four children, Maggie, 13, Lilly, 11, Adam, 11, and Jonah, 7.