A Letter to My Son

My son... surreal. Surreal to think, surreal to say, surreal to grasp. But his reality came flooding into my life today in a way I could never have prepared for. I watched him dance, watched and heard his heart beat, appreciated his perfectly formed heart, kidneys, and brain as only someone in healthcare can. But beyond watching a baby on a screen, I realized something deeper. This wasn't a baby I was watching; this was my baby. Two days in my life have moved me to tears repeatedly... this was the second.



If I could put it into words, it would go something like this:

Dear Little One,
On September 22nd, we found out you were heading our way. I cried, mostly out of sheer terror. Despite what many thought (though few said), you were not a "surprise."
We let God choose the timing in which you'd come to be, but you were chosen, expected, and so very wanted... we just weren't sure quite when to expect you! But the Lord knows best and he chose to give you to us at the exact time His plan called for. You became my reality, but in an abstract way.

A few days later I saw you for the first time, and you scared me for the first time. With all the matter-of-factness required to survive as a doctor, Dr. W told me she wasn't sure you were viable. I realized at that moment just how much I wanted you, how I wanted God to hold you in His omniscient hands. Daddy was worried about me, but never about you. He knew you were safe. At that moment, you began to teach me about faith... and how little control I would have over the coming months. Maybe ever again. And you were a little more real to me.

A long two weeks later, we saw you two weeks bigger... dancing, tiny heart already beating in your little body; a body still unrecognizable as a person. And I knew you were still real. You were nice to me in those early weeks. Maybe a little too nice, as some days I wondered if something was wrong because I felt OK. As if you sensed that, the next day would be a bad day. I always found those days comforting because I knew you were still with me. You were still real.

The weeks have passed, precious boy. Nearly nineteen of them. I'm almost halfway to holding you in my arms. Yet until today, you were still only abstractly real... almost like a pen pal you've never met. Today I watched you on a screen as I had before, but today I saw a person. A perfectly formed brain. Four heart chambers. Kicking feet. Ribs and a spine. A perfect face resting between two folded arms. A little individual annoyed by the poking and prodding to the point of literally turning your back on us at one point. In a moment, a body became a person. A person became an individual. That individual became my son. You became my absolute, concrete, permanent, passionate reality.

Not that you weren't always real, but in literally a split second I knew who you were. You were mine and I was yours. I'm a mother... not that I wasn't before, but I understood it in a different way in that moment.

I worry about so much, little one. I worry about how to protect you for the next 21 weeks from things seen and things over which I have no control. I worry about the choices I have to make now and those I'll be making a few months from now. I worry about taking care of you. How am I supposed to keep you alive? I kill things. I do realize English ivy and little boys are actually different, but what are you going to need from me and how will I know?

I worry about not setting the Godly example for you I desire to. I worry that you won't see Him reflected in my life, that you'll have no idea of the joy and freedom of living in Christ. That you'll see our family's faith as a list of dos and don'ts, not a relationship that fulfills far beyond the "attractions" of this life.

I worry that I'll succumb to the easy route of giving you everything you want, that you'll grow up with no awareness of those around you or the world we live in. That you'll fail to see the blessings of your life or understand the importance of compassion and "doing life" with others.

I don't worry that you won't become a doctor or a lawyer. I don't worry about you being top of your class or a star athlete (although for the sanity of your poor momma please have some athletic abilities so I won't cringe everytime you play your chosen sports). I'm worried that I will fail you in the way that I see children failed by their parents every single day. Not in care and feeding and material provision, but in helping you to become a whole, productive, caring, principled man of God. I know that's years down the road, but it's a lifelong job for Daddy and I that begins with your first breath. I know I can stumble and fall and have to backtrack, but I cannot fail. The Lord has given you to us to raise to a man. It is our most significant responsibility... one of the few things that truly matters for the rest of our lives.

You're already teaching me, little one. Teaching me faith. Teaching me to look beyond myself and what I want. Teaching me that 13 weeks isn't too early for my hips to be killing me. We have so much to teach each other, to learn from each other, to learn together. You're already challenging me to stop being the picture and to become the frame.

Grow now, Jonah. You've much to get done in the next few months. And so do I.

I love you... more than I ever thought I could.

Tuning Back In

I'm the worst. Blogger. Ever.

Seriously. For those not in the know, my life has changed radically and completely since I last blogged. In that time I have gone from perpetually single to girlfriend to fiance. If you're thinking "Well that was fast," you're right. But the beauty of being 30-something and single is that I know myself. I know what's important. I know what I want, what I need, and what's just fluff. And more importantly, God knows all those things too. In having Casey placed into my life at the right time, I've been blessed far beyond what I could ever have imagined. I will be the first to admit that I didn't always trust, and certainly didn't dare to hope, that God had a plan all along, but it's become so evident that He did! I can truly say that on June 19th, I will be marrying the other side of me.

So... June 19th! That's now less than 5 months away. I admit 2 days of sheer panic at first, but everything's coming together well and God has placed all the right people and opportunities in our path so far. Not that there won't be lots of work ahead of us (budgets stink!!), but it's all going to work out. I will become something of a DIY bride, so prepare for that :). Better a DIY bride than an "it's all about me" bridezilla, right?? Another good thing about being 30-something is that I have a very firm grasp on the fact that, in the long run, very little is about me. And that this is not about a wedding, it's about a marriage.

So... hmm... The end of 2009, aside from that development, came off rather mundanely. I'm still at the same address, still at the same job, still the same old me... just a little older and a little more busy. The beginning of 2010, as most of you know, was NOT my finest moment! A missed diagnoses on a Wednesday night landed me back in the ER on Friday. Within hours, my blood pressure had bottomed out and my blood oxygen level was struggling to stay above 90 (98-99 is normal for a healthy person). Those two things landed me in ICU at 3 in the morning on heavy duty meds and heavy duty oxygen. So it was a scary surprise to spend the first 5 days of 2010 hanging with the staff at Baylor Plano! But God was once again faithful and thanks to the prayers of friends, family, and people who barely know me, I recovered quickly.

That's the Cliff's Notes version of my life these days. I hope to check in more regularly!