If It Has Whiskers, It’s Not a Baby

When Emily and I first started dating, she showed me old photo albums from her childhood. What stood out wasn’t her haircuts or clothes, it was the cats. She had a cat in about ninety percent of those pictures. Back then, she was a cat person. Her cat, Hobbs, was a big, fat, lazy pillow of a creature. A good cat, as far as cats go.

When we got married, we did what a lot of young couples do right out of the gate… we got a pet. Another cat. His name was Moses. Unlike Hobbs, he was sharp. I even taught him to dunk wadded up paper into a hoop above my office trash can. It’s instinctual for young couples to get a small life to care for together. But let’s be clear: there are no “cat moms” or “fur babies.” There are only pet owners.
That’s not to diminish the affection you can have for a pet. Growing up, my collie Rudy slept at the foot of my bed and followed me everywhere. Today, our German Shepherd, Luther, is a beloved member of the household. But he’s not a son. He’s not a baby. He’s the family dog, and we love him for what he is.

One of the biggest mistakes we made early in marriage was delaying having kids. We told ourselves we were waiting until we were financially ready. Of course, “ready” was never defined. The truth is, we could’ve taken care of a baby from day one. But there was pressure, from the culture and peers, to wait. It made Emily anxious, and I failed in leadership. So we waited three years. And in that time, we had three cats. What a waste.

Little to no good comes from a marriage with no children, at least not for long. If you can’t afford to care for one child, you shouldn’t be getting married. Marriage itself demands a certain level of maturity and responsibility. And for those who say, “We just want to strengthen our relationship first,” I’d ask, since when do ease and vacations build character? Sure, trips and date nights are great. Take them while you can. But they’re not the forge where love becomes durable.
If you want to grow close to your spouse, have a baby. It changes everything. The woman changes. The man changes. You’re no longer just husband and wife. You’re father and mother. Becoming one flesh isn’t only about the act that creates life. It’s about the shared life itself. You are forever joined in that child.

The hardships will draw you together. But so will the glory. I’ve stood at the edge of the Grand Canyon. It’s magnificent. But it’s nothing compared to hearing your child say “Daddy” for the first time. Or seeing them take their first steps. Or win a wrestling match. Or walk through the door with a fiancé on their arm. There’s a deep satisfaction between a man and his wife when they look at the life they’ve made together and see that life flourish. It emboldens you. It reminds you that, by God’s grace, you can do great things.

So, if the Lord gives you the gift of children, and you shouldn’t presume He will, receive it quickly and gladly. It’s one of the great purposes of marriage. Nothing binds two souls together quite like raising a child.

If it has whiskers, it’s not a baby.

What got me thinking about this was Facebook. It came along during our early parenting years, and now my memories feed is full of pictures of our family. The ones with Emily no longer have cats. Ninety percent of them show my beautiful bride surrounded by our sons and daughters. Children clinging to her, laughing, growing. And it struck me: not only did we make people, but the people we made have made us.

Painting: Mother and Children by Jacob Simon Hendrik Kever