Letters to J: First Times

Hi, my little boy,

Sunday, after two days of hard work painting your nursery, assembling your new crib, hanging your curtains and organizing some of your clothes, I reflected for a bit.

Your daddy was downstairs working on something, so I just sat down in the middle of your new room and cried. Hard. For awhile. I don't think your daddy even knew. I just thought about how this time last year I doubted that I'd ever have a baby.

I never thought I'd be able to watch my stomach grow and feel a baby moving inside me.

I never thought I'd get to wear ugly jeans with elastic waistbands to accommodate a growing belly.

I never thought I'd get to pick out paint colors and crib bedding.

I never thought I'd get the chance to sit in the freshly painted nursery of my own little baby.

And I just wept. It brought back all those old feelings. All those times where I'd just cry for hours and hours because I didn't understand why God didn't want me to have a baby. Your daddy would hold my hand, give me a hug and reassure me, "We WILL be parents. We don't know when or how... but you're going to be a mom one day. I just know it."

And now here we are. According to calculations, you're about a foot long and weigh a little over a pound. Not a little poppy seed any more, buddy. We've come a long way. And I'm starting to see maybe a little of what God was doing in making me wait for you. Namely - I think I can see more clearly what's really important in this whole thing. Yes, it's a blast thinking about your nursery and selecting your stroller, carseat and crib. But really, none of it matters. It's just stuff. And, if the tornadoes whipping across the south are of any indication - it can all be gone in an instant.

All I need in this crazy world of ours is that sweet daddy of yours, and a healthy little you.

I love you,
mama