Why Did God Make Babies?

My little girl makes my heart swell.

She has the best giggle, the most beautiful eyes, and the strongest will of any child I've ever met. She is smart and determined. She is a blessing.

But, this week, she's also a challenge.

Before Cami got a fever, two teeth, and a croupy cough, I planned to write an update for my Adventures in Marriage collection of posts. (I mean, hasn't it been too long since I proved relationships require patience, hard work, and constant self-sacrifice by sharing something unstable I said/did to my husband?)  :)   But I haven’t had time to mistreat Luke lately because we’ve been embarking on Adventures in Miserable Babies.
Soooo you get one of Amanda's Parenthood Ponderings instead.
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Why did God create babies?

Some say babyhood is important for the parent-child relationship; their sweet faces and total dependency encourage long-term attachment. But I'm not particularly attached to the whining, the night-wakings, and the loss of my free time. Yes, babies are cute, with good-smelling breath and soft skin. But they're a lot of work, too! If their sole purpose is making us fall in love with them, the  pooping, crying, and constant-attention-requiring part all seem counterproductive. God should have seen that coming…

It also seems logical that babies “must” start small because  they come packaged in a tight space. Naturally, after birth, they have to spend time growing. But I believe God is fully creative enough to invent a quicker way. He could have programmed babies to crawl, walk, and run within hours of birth--as with horses. Or, He could have arranged humans to be independent immediately, never even meeting their parents (like sea turtles).
Why are human babies immature for so long? If God could have eliminated babyhood--or at least sped it up--why didn't He?

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I'm lucky my little girl plays fabulously by herself, most of the time. But lately, when I try to wash a few dishes, or write for my blog, or even brush my teeth, she crawls after me, crying. Her moodiness has confined me to the rocking chair (in my PJ's, with no makeup) trying to console the inconsolable--considering the irony of "Miss Amanda--the unshakable, unstoppable, Teacher of dozens" begging for mercy from ONE red-faced 8-month-old.

Desperately, I want her to get over this illness or growth spurt or whatever, so we can get back to normal. I want to play with her, sing with her, take her to run errands, and all the other important mommy-things…

But what if these difficult, tear-filled days, when my to-do list is neglected and I feel like a failure are the most important mommy-things? What if bonding and teaching are only secondary purposes of Cami's babyhood—with the main point being to challenge me?

Like teaching special education and marriage, parenthood is hard.  And if all the "incentives" had to come from Cami herself, it might not be worth it. Perhaps, since I have a "good baby,” this seems unfair. Her good days outnumber the bad. It should be easy to press through a rough week knowing it probably will get better, right?

But what about children who aren't so "good?" What about colicky babies? Or, what about those with disabilities, whose challenging behavior shows no end? Let's face it--if parenthood hinges on physical rewards, like giggles and hugs, there are kids whose extreme needs aren't worth it.

That's why I think parenthood has more to do with becoming better people than raising them. It's precisely the most un-cute, un-productive, un-pleasant days which have the most to teach us.  
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I’m confident Cami will be easy-going again soon…and it will be a relief. I don't LIKE when my patience is challenged. Unconditional love isn't easy to learn. And, when Cami goes back to normal, eventually I’ll go back to taking her for granted, complaining about small things, nagging her father, and other self-serving activities, too.  

 But I’m glad that God made babies—cute, needy, sweet, whiny, selfish babies—to put parents like me in our place now and then.