Dear Little One,
You’re the reason I’ve been awake since 4:30 AM, with your kicking around inside me. I’ve lain awake thinking of you and praying for you and imagining what you look like. And, for now, I’ve given up on getting any more sleep.
You have sharp little elbows and knees. Maybe they’re funny straight elbows like your mom’s and great-grandmother’s. I hope you have your daddy’s big brown eyes without having to wear glasses like he does, and I hope you catch some of his sweetness and silly sense of humor.
It was early in the morning like this when I first knew for sure that we were going to have you. I got up at 5 o’clock every morning this past winter because I wanted to have time for a shower and Bible reading before going to work, and this one particular morning I was trying to be very quiet as I opened up the package with the pregnancy test in it. I didn’t want your daddy to hear the plastic rustling in the bathroom and guess what I was doing. The test showed a plus sign right away, but the instructions were to wait three minutes.
3 minutes later, the test still showed positive. I took my shower and started getting dressed for work, and then I walked into our little apartment bedroom. “Good morning, Daddy,” I whispered. Your dad smiled a sleepy smile.
I wonder if he thought he was still dreaming.
It was hard not to say anything all day long to anyone. I had to work a little late that night, but I think we told your grandparents right away. When we Skyped your Hartley grandparents, we showed them a bottle of prenatal vitamins your dad had picked up for me that same day. My dad got the biggest smile on his face I’ve ever seen. Your Fasolino grandparents were driving home from a basketball game when we FaceTimed them. Your dad told them we were deciding on paint colors for the house we were trying to buy at the time, and he asked their opinion on nursery colors. You will be their first grandchild, little one.
We had one week of happiness and fun. Then I started getting sicker and sicker. My body didn’t know how to have your little body inside it, I guess. I quit my job, I quit driving, I quit eating most things, I quit being able to cook more than just a few foods for your dad to eat. He would go to the store and buy things like Gatorade and Pedisure to try to keep me from getting too dehydrated during those weeks of constant vomiting and losing weight. A couple of times he even hand-squeezed oranges and lemons and mixed up a World Health Organization hydration recipe your Fasolino grandparents gave him. It was like that for the longest months of my life. One time I was afraid I was losing you, and I cried my eyes out.
But you’re still here! And your mom finally started being able to eat and have a pretty normal life again. I learned to depend on your dad during that time I was so helpless, and I found out he’s a pretty special guy. One day when you get married, you’d better ask his advice on how to take good care of a wife.
We pray for you every day, little one. We pray that God will save you when you are still young so you don’t have to endure the pain of separation from Him and sin against Him for long years. We pray that we will learn to be godly parents who love you more than we love ourselves and our own selfishness.
I pray that I will be able to let you go when the time comes that God calls you into His service. Maybe you will be asked to go somewhere dangerous to serve Him; I don’t want to hold you back from obeying.
I can’t wait to hold you in my arms, sweet baby. You’re so strong and wiggly all the time inside me right now–sometimes you like to kick your little feet between my ribs and skin, or punch me right in one of my organs–and I know that’s going to be really cute once you’re out in the big world breathing our air. I’ve been getting ready for you, cleaning the house and freezing food so your daddy doesn’t just feed us frozen pizzas every day when I’m not able to cook right after you come. I’ve washed the first loads of your sweet little newborn clothes and blankets with baby detergent. When I touch your clothes, I smell Baby.
Your dad is gone on one of his flights right now, so we don’t want you to show up just yet. But your due date is in 20 days. We should get to meet you really soon! You’re our experiment kid, you know–the one with whom we learn how to be parents. We are both oldest children, so we know exactly how you will feel about that.
We thank God for the gift of your little life. We love you and will always love you.