Last Friday, I was able to be with a dear friend, as she gave birth to her son. It is a privilege to call her my friend, and an undeserved honor to attend her son's birth. Thanks Chelle, for what was, by far, the most breathtaking way I could ever spend a morning.
Also, if anyone else out there wants someone to hang out with them when they give birth, OH MY GOSH CALL ME, I WOULD DO IT AGAIN IN A HEARTBEAT, IT WAS THE MOST AWESOMEST THING IN THE WORLD. I do not have any training, any expertise, or anything else that might be useful, but man oh man, it is something awesome to see a baby born and I would do it everyday if I could. The End.
Dear Baby Will,
Today I saw you born. And it was incredible.
I would love to know for certain that when you are old enough to appreciate the things that I will write to you today, that your mother and I will still be fast friends. That we'll still live in the same city, still meet in the early morning for coffee; an once empty pre-dawn hour that's now full from tears and laughter and prayer and two other women who share our accidental sisterhood. That the four of us will still be leaning over a table together as we, one by one, and all together, struggle under the weight of life's disappointments and float on its joys.
But, life is predictably unpredictable, and so I decided to write this letter you you, in case the tides of years and geography separate our families and I cannot tell you myself.
Since I have known your mother, she has wanted you. Talked of you. Thought of you. Planned for you.
And you have been elusive.
There have been years of trying, of hoping, and of disappointment.
Over and over, the deep and irrevocable heartache of babies hoped for, prayed for, conceived, and then lost.
There has been sorrow and despair and empty mother-arms.
But, today you were born.
I saw them place your tiny squirmy body in your mother's arms. Heard your first weak cry. Saw your first gasp of breath. Watched your father weep at the sight of you. Today, I saw your soul come to life.
Every baby is a miracle, Will. Every single one.
But, you. You have been long-awaited. Much desired. Eight pounds and one ounce of the Lord's sweet mercy, and twenty-one inches of His unrelenting faithfulness.
I hope that as you grow, you can somehow feel the force of all the love and determination and faith that pushed you into the world today. I hope you will know that your parents love you past your wildest imagination. And I hope, most of all, that you'll know that Jesus loves you even more than that.
Welcome, Baby Boy. We are so glad that you are here.