15 Weeks In...

It's quite funny really - in sorrow - I found a never-ending well of words. I sat down to write and words just flowed.  It has been fascinating to me how - in such deep joy - I am rendered speechless.  And yet, I feel this compulsion to record this whole thing, to record what God has done.  Perhaps it feels almost too sacred for words sometimes.  I don't know.

•

We set up the crib in the nursery last night. I am not sure I’ll ever forget that picture of Cole leaning over the side rail, still dressed in the clothes he’d worn to church, adjusting the mattress just right. His first fatherly task – tightening every bolt a little extra so as to ensure the safety of his child to come. Is crib-assembly just a rite of passage for dads-to-be?

•

We left the door to that room closed for so long. And now, with no heed for an electric bill now heating a room that is yet unused, we leave that door wide open and I pause almost every time I pass it – I can’t help but to smile.

•

My belly is bigger these days. I find most clothes to be ill-fitting and uncomfortable. When I roll over in bed, I can clearly feel that there has been growth. Though I still seem to be in the “did she just let herself go?” phase – looking more like I ate too much pizza last night, rather than carrying the baby for which we’ve prayed.

•

This week, the bones in the baby’s ears have nearly hardened, enabling our child to now hear.  (granted, quite muffled if anything) On Saturday morning as we lay in bed, Cole took full advantage of this newfound ability and – with his head fully under the covers – proceeded to yell at my stomach how much he loves his little one.

•

People like to tell us all their horror stories – both in pregnancy and birth. There is nothing that has yet been able to put a damper on our joy and anticipation. The other day, I watched a video montage of babies just minutes fresh into the world. I fought back tears the whole time thinking about how, Lord willing, we will have one too.

•

For so many years, I thought God’s answer to our prayers was “no.” Here we are, 15 weeks into this, and I still can’t believe his answer is, “now.”  To God be the glory.

9 Weeks In...

Thursday, December 8


Hi Little One,

Those three simple words absolutely bring me to my knees. Your daddy and I only dreamed that we'd be here, now, calling you our Little One. And yet, here we are.  There is not a day that passes by that we do not marvel that God has seen fit to give you to us. And we pray daily to steward the gift of you well.

I want to record this here - somewhere - so that we never, ever forget. The journey to you has been long and hard and painful (and, expensive!) and lonely and hard. But here you are, wriggling around inside of me even as my insides are wriggling out of control. (I certainly hope you're getting some sustenance out of the bread-based diet that seems to be all I can stomach right now!)

We found out about you on Friday, November 4 - the day before your daddy turned 29.  I had a sneaking suspicion for  few days, but I really wanted to be sure and I really wanted to surprise your dad on his birthday. As it was, I couldn't even wait that long.  A test that morning revealed your presence and bloodwork came back the same.  As soon as I got the call, I ran to my closet to retrieve a gift I bought for your daddy two years ago.

I brought it to him and asked if he'd like to open a birthday gift early.  As he tore away the paper and opened the box to reveal a figure of a man cradling a baby, his head shot up and his blue eyes pierced me as he said, "Really?!" All I could do was nod and cry.

Little One, I have only seen your daddy cry three times as long as I've known him. Once, as he watched me walk down the aisle toward him to become his wife. The next time was when his grandfather suddenly passed away.  And the third time? Well, I have never seen him cry like the way he did when I told him that we was going to be a daddy.

He was the one that first called you Little One. I'd been walking around talking about "the baby" in general terms; he calls you Little One. Capitalized.  He prays for our Little One. Every time he speaks to God, he talks about you.

We get to see you tomorrow for the very first time. We are so excited; we've deemed the day, "Baby Day."

I had my first doctor's appointment on Tuesday. As the nice phlebotomist drew my blood and asked me if you were my first, I couldn't hold back the tears as I told her about you. And, she congratulated me.