Monday, September 3, 2012

Dear Baby in my Belly,

I have never seen your face but I imagine your little shape laying next to me all the time. In fact, I look forward to the moments we will have alone, laying side by side, more than I have ever looked forward to anything this side of heaven. So you'll forgive me if sometimes I wish you would just be born already; but don't get me wrong, this is fun, too. I love when you wiggle and squirm and kick and punch me and let me know how feisty you are--already.

I promise to honor and protect every precious inch of you that is in my charge to the best of my ability for all of my days. I read somewhere the other day that all children belong to God and we (parents) just get to care for them for awhile. As sad as it already makes me to contemplate the idea that you are not 100% mine, how much better is it to contemplate the fact that you are 100% God's FIRST, and then you are mine? What a comfort. I'm so glad God chose me to have you. I don't think you'll know until you have your own children just how blessed that makes me feel.

You have never breathed in air through your own lungs and yet you have already saved me in many, many ways. In fact, sometimes I think you get me out of bed in the morning. As tired and cramped and out of breath and nauseous as I may feel, you keep me moving. You remind me to eat and to drink water and to take care of myself like I may otherwise have been incapable of doing at this time in my life.

You aren't just a blessing to my body, no matter what the stretch marks and headaches may have to say, you are a blessing to my mind. You make me think happy thoughts. You keep my mind busy with plans and dreams and hopes for you. You make me see a happy future, when no one else could possibly do that for me right now.

You have also blessed my soul. In my desire to be a good mommy to you, I see a yearning in my heart to be closer to God that is made of something completely other. A yearning that is completely new. I can't lead you to the Lord if I can't draw near, either, and this has spurred me on to a much more disciplined thought and prayer life. It is a totally new thing to "take every thought captive" when I know I have a little human being depending on me and my soundness of mind.

Can I just say that I have never wanted to impress someone more in my ENTIRE life? Man oh man do I hope you think I'm just the coolest. I remember how I used to think my parents were like, insane. Like, no one could possibly be as strong/smart/funny/intelligent as they were. I remember when my mom would pick me up with one arm just thinking, I bet she can do anything! Ever!

I want to be the mommy that can do anything, ever, for you. And not just in the daily ins-and-outs of being your mom--although I hear that it's the "daily" part of motherhood that is the hardest--I want to do the hard things for you, too. I want to cultivate the kind of relationship with you that is going to leave a lasting impression on you--in a good way. I hope you can say the kinds of things about me at my funeral that my dad had to say about his mom. Things like, maybe you didn't grow up with the nicest house on the block or all the money in the world, but you grew up seeing the fear of the Lord demonstrated. That you grew up in the knowledge of the Lord. I hope all of that is true while simultaneously you'll be able to say that I never chose a pinterest perfect home over getting in pillow fights, that I never cared more about doing the dishes than helping with homework and that I never made you feel guilty for spilling on the carpet.

I hope when I fail you, or let you down, as I inevitably will do, that you know my heart better than you know my mistakes. I hope you'll be able to see past any grumpiness or moodiness and know that no matter how tired or spread thin, I love you and I am imperfect creature.

I hope you share your heart breaks with me and your joys. I hope you'll always be annoyed when I put your grades on the fridge and when I'm 50, I'll still have something you draw for me five years from now. Because that's what parents do. We're annoying and we're superhuman and we're imperfect and we love you til our bones break. Aren't we just the worst sometimes?

I hope you get to have the kind of relationship with my parents that I have gotten to have with my grandparents. They are crazy, but they love you, too.

Basically, I can't wait for you to get here. I don't care that it's gonna hurt, I don't care that I'm gonna lose lots of sleep and will probably be covered in a myriad of different body fluids, I don't care that I won't have this awesome head of pregnant hair anymore, I just want you to be laying next to me and I know this is weird but I can't wait to find out if you have my feet. I'll explain one day.

So, I hope you're comfy in there (one of us should be), and please stay in for as long as you have to, but know that the next 15 weeks are going to crawl by for me. I just can't wait to be the mommy that God planned for you.

1 comment:

Victoria said...

This made me cry! Hugs to you both