a letter to our unborn child
You have been many places little one. You've been to Arizona when you were multiplying cells, my only inkling being heart burn which was the first sign of my first pregnancy also. You've been to Kansas City to visit your uncle when you were still your daddy's and my secret. You've been to your grandparents homes in Hastings and Rochester, to visit family in Wisconsin and to Crooked Lake. You've been hugged by your aunts and uncles and by our friends who we will call your aunts and uncles.
You are loved.
Even though no one except God has seen you yet and no one (except God and your daddy) knows your name, you are loved.
We can't wait to meet you although we know that it will be pretty disruptive for you to leave your free floating home and be pushed through a tiny hole into a bright noisy world. But, let's face it, we are both getting pretty uncomfortable and I think it's time your dad gets to carry you around all day. I bet you'll get pretty good at kicking him in the ribs too.
I am excited to hear your little voice and to watch your personality develop. I hope you have your dad's ears and that you are a lefty like him ('cuz that would make him SO happy). I hope you like to read and wear your dad's poor boy caps. I hope your first word Loki ... although I know it's realistic that at first you will see him as a black blob that makes loud noises every so often and he will see you as an intruder. But really, I want you to be you. And if you don't like to read or if you don't like Loki, we will find out what you do like and we'll teach Loki to keep his distance. I always want there to be room for you to just be you.
We don't know much about this parenting thing and we know that we'll need a lot of grace and forgiveness for the mistakes that we will make. We don't know how to teach you the important things about life and will rely on God to use us or to teach you these things in spite of ourselves. There are so many things for all of us to learn but at first, we'll settle for eating, sleeping and changing your diaper.
I believe that you are a gift and will be thankful for your life for the entirety of mine. I know that you - without a name on your birth certificate or a social security number - matter and are intimately known by God. Every day of your life is known by him. I pray that you will come to know his character and his love and seek his will for your life.
I don't know how long it will be before our bodies together decide that you are ready to make your entrance into this world. Your birth will be our first accomplishments together - you, me and your dad. And, just like eating and sleeping and teaching you about God and the world, birth will be challenging and hard and will stretch both of us (pun intended) but in the end we will know that it is good and that it was worth it.