Sweet baby boy,

 

The truth?  I thought I’d lose you.  I thought I’d love you and lose you and never be able to heal.  (Even though I know now that God really could heal me)  And for the longest time, I didn’t give you all of me.  I just didn’t think I could handle it.  I thought I’d collapse in a heap and never move again.  I’ve watched so many sweet friends have to walk that road…that painful, agonizing road.  And though I tried to pray for you, I wasn’t going to pretend that my faith would keep me from the tragedies of life.

But here you are.

And I love you more than I could imagine.

Your journey into this world was rough.  You came at the absolutely most inconvenient perfect time ever.  We didn’t have maternity coverage.  I was still in pain from Lyme disease.  My body had trouble demonstrating it could support you.  Every other week I would go to the doctor just to see if your sweet little heart was still beating.  And each time I would try to prepare myself to hear the worst.

But you…  You never gave up.  You were always there.

After you had been living in me for 27 weeks, we had our first conversation.  I told you how sorry I was.  How ashamed I was that I was so scared to love you.  And I pledged right then and there that I wouldn’t let fear keep me from loving you for any and every day that God would give me to spend with you…even in utero.  I prayed for you.  I prayed for you to be strong.  To fight.  To never give up.  I placed my hand over you and thanked God for you.  And you kicked me.  (PS: I love your spunk)

We went through a lot together.  We documented some amazing weddings.  We soaked up the city of Chicago.  And we laughed a lot at your brother and sister.

And then you surprised me.  While watching “Horton Hears a Who” with your dad, brother and sister, you decided it was time to enter this world.  We started calling friends and Aunt Mandy and Sandra came to the rescue and took your very excited brother and sister while we headed to the hospital.  And then…well…labor happened.

Since my contractions simply would not come, I had to take some medicine that made them COME.  Before long, it was simply too much, so I waived my flag of surrender and asked for an epidural.  The only problem?  It didn’t work.

By the way… your head was turned the wrong way.

What proceeded was 2 pain-filled hours of pushing.  Oh little man – I cried.  And screamed.  And begged God to let it be over.  I’m pretty sure I terrified your dad.  And I may have cursed.  Sorry about that…  Then…there you were.  And because of the traumatic and surprising nature of how everything had gone (your brother and sister were out within 30 minutes of pushing…let’s just say I didn’t expect the pain that would come with your head being turned the wrong way or the length of time I’d spend pushing without having slept) I didn’t know what to do with you.  I was grateful you were here, but I felt like my entire world had been turned upside down and I was in shock.

I asked your dad to hold you.  And through tears I begged God to forgive me that I just couldn’t hold you after all that had happened.  With tears in my eyes I begged Him to give us a connection that I just couldn’t feel at first.

4 hours later (yes I’m ashamed of that.  I’m hoping when you can actually read – you’ll just laugh and appreciate that I was honest with you) it happened.  I held you in my arms and I was mush in your sweet little hands.  You were HERE.  I wanted to shout it from the rooftops.  All that pain – all those questions – all that agony – YOU WERE HERE.

God gave me you.

Over the past year, so much has changed.  (Why not move a brand new family of 5 across the country…)  But most of all, we’ve changed.  You’ve grown.  And you pushed ME to grow.  We’ve loved.  We’ve sung more rounds of “You are my Sunshine” than most people have sung in their entire lifetime – and I’ve loved it.  And you?  You’ve brought us joy.  Laughter.  YOU.

Today we’re celebrating one year with you in our lives.  A year filled to the brim with all that life offers us.  And we’re so grateful that YOU ARE HERE.

I love you.  With all of me.  Forgive me for waiting 27 weeks to get there.  I pledge all of me for the rest of the days I’m given.  With the biggest smile EVER.

 

Love,

Mommy