To my dear, sweet baby boy,
In just a matter of days, I will see your face and hear your voice for the first time. The excitement builds with each passing moment. For a three hour period yesterday, I thought perhaps it would be last night as I had some mild contractions every 15 minutes for about 3 hours. But then things returned to their calm state.
It humbles me, this anticipation. Even though you are my fifth child, this is the most relaxed I have faced an upcoming birth. In the past, I’ve been worried and scared. How much pain? How long would I labor? Would labor begin on its own, naturally? Or would I have yet another induced labor? Will we be able to adjust? Will the kids adjust? What if you’re sick? What if I get sick? So many questions that could never be answered and the worry is irrelevant anyway.
Today, I think of the contractions and the pushing and I know a certain peace. My due date remains 2 weeks away and yet, I have a sense of calm understanding (as I feel my second cramp of the hour) that tonight may very well be the night. I know how my body does this. I know your dad will be there with me helping me through it all. I trust the doctor completely to do his part in all of this (and because he’s so great a doc – he knows his part is fairly limited).
Your siblings get more excited every day. They continue to pray that you are healthy. Helen asked me tonight if you could hear her voice. Then she gave me that breath-taking smile and sighed in wonder and amazement as I informed her that, barring any hearing problems, yes, you would be able to identify her voice and you can hear her playing and singing and talking to you…even now.
Daddy and I have decided on a name. We’ve done this with each child. We’ve known the name before we’ve seen the face of our precious baby. And you know what? The names have always been perfect. I know your name is perfect, too.
Many ladies at church have approached me to tell me they are praying for us. And they are praying that you decide to come early. I simply smile. I say, “that would be nice.” And I know the likelihood of that (based on history) is small. But I’m grateful for the prayers.
We went through boxes of baby clothes this past weekend and washed, dried, folded and put away your things. I know you’re going to be a big boy, so we loaded up the outfits that said “NB (5-8 lbs) into a box for another baby, perhaps your cousin who will be born in three months. We set up your crib and hung curtains in the room you will share with your big brother. I even bought a package of size 1 diapers. And I packed my bag for the hospital. I think we are ready, should you decide to be ready.
You are such a special boy. Did you know that, like you, your daddy is the youngest of five children? And his daddy was, too? I think that gives you a special rank and privilege…somewhere.
When I think about the fact that God planned you from the beginning of time for this place, here in our family, my heart swells. I almost feel like I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. That sounds so silly, doesn’t it? I mean, I have your older sisters and your older brother…but there’s just something different about the way I feel this time, the way I feel about you.
And I can’t wait to meet you, to hold you, to kiss your soft head and see your beautiful eyes and know what color your hair is. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the supreme honor of being your mother.
I am reminded of the song that Julie Andrews and Christopher Plummer sing in Rodgers & Hammerstein’s The Sound of Music that
“…somewhere in my wicked, miserable past, there must have been a moment of truth”
“somewhere in my youth…or childhood, I must have done something good.”
So, little baby boy, maybe you’ll come tonight, maybe next week or maybe another week still.
Either way, I peacefully await your arrival.