I can’t make babies. Oh, I have given birth twice, but my role in creating those children was minor, and it certainly can’t be considered work. I didn’t start my son’s heartbeat or paint my daughter’s eyes blue. I didn’t gather the ingredients for the milk I fed them when they were infants. And, even though my daughter’s love of arts and crafts and my son’s over-enthusiastic personality both come from my genes, I didn’t design them to be that way.
The details that make each of my children who they are and allow them to function physically are vast and complicated. Even working together, my husband and I could never on our own produce anything even closely resembling a human. I am always dumbfounded when someone says he has “made a baby.” How can we take credit for such an amazing work? How can someone look at his children and not believe in God?