Your mama is writing this to replace pregnancy journals and baby books. I won’t attempt to buy either because they will remain empty.
This doesn’t mean I don’t love you. It just means life is quite busy chasing after your nine big brothers and sisters. You’ll see!
Two weeks ago, your daddy and I got to see your sweet little fingers and toes at our ultrasound. I have something crazy to share with you: It always makes me a little sad to share you with everyone else.
Up until that ultrasound, I was the only one who knew you, really knew you, except for God. Only I knew how nauseous and hormonal it feels to grow you from two tiny cells. Only I felt your little flutters and squirms. Only I knew how you kick like crazy when music plays loudly or my seat belt squishes you.
I have loved you ever since I had an inkling that you were growing inside me. Actually, I prayed for you months ago. You were not exactly planned as the rest of the world expects babies to be. However, your daddy and I were open to the possibility of you, and God willed you to exist at this exact time and place. God has a very special life in store for you.
Someday we will read scripture, go to mass, and pray the rosary together. I hope to share with you Luke 2:22-35, where the prophet Simeon holds baby Jesus, rejoicing that he recognizes the Messiah. He tells Mother Mary that a sword will pierce her own soul, too.
I have come to understand this scripture as it applies to my life. Now, in no way do I think my life compares to Jesus and the Holy Family’s, but all mommies know it’s just plain hard to live out our vocation. All mommies struggle, even our Blessed Mother. Sometimes this pain feels just like a sword piercing our soul.
My silly little suffering as I share ultrasound pictures with the world is just the beginning! I will blink my eyes and you will be walking away from me, not wanting to snuggle anymore. You will start kindergarten, and in a blur, college. Every moment I care for you will be spent preparing you to be independent of me!
So I share your ultrasound picture, knowing it is the first of many times I will have to share you with the world.
For now, I am content to treasure every time you kick and squirm in my belly. I daydream about what your daddy and I will name you and if you are a boy or girl. Who will you look like? Who will you act like?
I am thankful the ultrasound deemed you “perfect,” although I would love you with purple hair and fourteen toes and whatever imperfections life may bring.
As overwhelming as my love seems for you, my love is not perfect. There will come a day that you will roll your eyes at me and I will be angry. We will both be hurt.
Always remember that only God’s love is perfect. In fact, God made me a mother to teach me about His perfect love. Nothing compares to how much God loves us both. I will spend the rest of my life trying to love you like God does.
Sweet, sweet little baby, your entire family—as big and loud and crazy as we are—cannot wait to hold you and meet you. And yes, I will share you with them, too!
Love forever and always,