The end of the world as we know it . . .

2/27/09

Thus, we begin. This unknown is so familiar, easy to recollect, easier to embrace. Minature socks hide under a teeth-marked crib, a big yellow truck parked in the bathroom, trains to trip over in early morning darkness, camflouge gloves and goldfish crumbs litter the car--so many reminders that we have reason to hope. Familiar prayers without words bring us to one word yet again: PLEASE. Come, Lord Jesus . . .

For my first-born . . .

2/19/09
To my baby boy,
I've thought and prayed a lot about what a brother or sister will mean to you and how your life will change. Today, I am praying that you will be the proud big brother, the supportive little helper you already are, and the relaxed, resilient boy I know you to be! It will be a big change for all of us, but a change that will enrich all of us. Your daddy and I talked last night. We imagined the worst: our hearts are broken because your brothers/sisters don't survive for whatever reason. That our years of creating life end in tragedy. Guess what we determined? You, Noah Michael, are enough. You bring enough blessing, enough laughter, enough joy, enough sharpening. My prayer today is that God will bring you blessing, laughter, joy, and sharpening in a brother or sister. From the moment we saw you--8 cells strong--to the moment we held you--8 lbs. strong--we have loved you. And we love you so very much, Goosey, forever and ever.
xoxoxo
Mommy

Love Letter . . .

2/17/09
To my baby(ies),
You are the forefront of our thoughts, prayers, and conversation today. I'm already imagining the energy of your heart beat, the flutter of your elbows and heels, the frenzy of preparation. Never doubt that you are life that was wanted, planned for, and sought after. Every shot, every pill, every dollar was and is worth it, you. We have loved you since your conception years ago. We have loved you, suspended in time. We love you today. And we will love you firmly forever.
Until then,
Mommy