Friday, July 22, 2016

Dear Knox, I can't wait to tell you...

37 weeks feels large.  Heartburn, swelling, incessant pressure on my bladder, the constant state of wondering if I'll be able to move out of this position, and my skin feeling stretched to the point of explosion.  Physically, everything feels harder - hard to move, hard to breathe.  But then, I feel a kick in the ribs or a knee scraping my belly button from the inside, and the other discomforts instantly fade.  I couldn't feel more blessed to carry life.  As my due date approaches, I'm filled with excitement, fear, love, hope, and anxiety all rolled into one ball of ambiguity. Before my son makes his grand arrival, I want to cherish the discomforts, the heartburn, the flutters of life inside me, the time I've shared with him the last nine months as I've felt him grow, because soon my life will look very, very different.

(I wrote the first part of this in Galveston, so just... OK?!)

Dear Knox, 

As I stare at the ocean waves,  rolling and breaking over one another, I can't help but notice my thoughts doing the same.
I've carried you with me physically for nine months, but I've been anticipating you for much longer. Now, your birthday is nearing, and your dad and I can't wait to see your sweet face. 
For nine months, you've grown and stretched in my belly, pushing all my organs out of your way and settling your way into my heart.

There are some things I wish you could know.  Maybe one day I'll share with you this letter but for now, I wish I could tell you...

I wish I could tell you how elated I was when you showed up as two faded pink lines.
After five negative pregnancy tests over the course of two weeks and a lot of mixed emotions, I was ready to move on and try for you the next month, even though the disappointment that you still weren't here settled over me like a fog. I wanted you in my timing.  
I wish I could tell you about my conversation with God in that moment of uncertainty.  I'd tell you that He was teaching me something. That I would be OK with or without you, because He is always enough.
I'd tell you that through streaming tears and worship on Sunday, November 29, 2015, I felt God's peace wrap me up like warm blanket.  I will never forget that day.  I knew you would come in His time, that he would bless me with the gift of motherhood when I could realize that He sustains my every need.  I hope one day you know the overwhelming peace that can only come from your Heavenly Father, son. 

I wish I could tell you about the joy - that's still not a strong enough word - the feeling of my heart falling from my chest when, later that November day, you showed up on a stick that I peed on.  I wish you could know in that instant what I felt.  That God was giving me a piece of His goodness by putting your life in my womb.

I wish I could tell you that I secretly liked throwing up every morning because it meant you were healthy.

When I saw you on the sonogram screen, and you showed us you were a boy, my eyes filled with tears.  That was the first time I could imagine you as my son.  It finally felt real.  I felt like I knew some part of your identity, which let me dream about the young man you could become.

The next time I saw you on that screen, I stared in awe of God's perfect design, as the camera scrolled over your tiny spine and your perfect face and your long, bony legs.  I couldn't believe God entrusted me with your little life.

I wish I could tell you that with every flutter you remind me of my new purpose.  With every kick, I imagine your future as a soccer star or break dancer.  With every roll, I imagine us as a family dancing in the living room or you riding our greyhound like a horse. With every punch, you remind me how much you are growing.

I wish I could tell you how excited I am to watch your dad become a dad.  He loves you so much already.  I can already picture him pastoring you and teaching you about the love of God and His word.  I imagine him lovingly disciplining you and teaching you right from wrong.  I imagine you on his shoulders at the zoo, with your matching hipster outfits.  I imagine him tucking you into bed while I eavesdrop on your conversations about God and life.  I'm realizing I'm outnumbered when I imagine the pranks and jokes he will involve you in against me.  Even still, I can't wait to watch your bond unfold.

I wish I could tell you how excited and scared I am to mom. I can't wait to rock you to sleep and calm you after nightmares.  I can't wait to celebrate your first goal and encourage you when you feel defeated.  I can't wait to go on mother son dates and embarrass you in public.  I can't wait to retaliate against you and your dad.  Although these are great things, I also know that parenting you will be hard.  That's why I'm scared.  I don't want to ruin you, but I am a sinner.  I won't get it right all the time.  I will inevitably fail you and knowing that hurts me. I know I will get frustrated and overreact and smother you and leave you alone and yell, but I pray for grace.  Even though we both know I'll make mistakes, you must know that I could never stop loving you.

As your mother, despite my imperfections and by the grace of God, I promise to love you as best I can, to raise you in a gospel-centered home, to have high expectations but to be gracious and empathetic when you fail to meet them.  I promise to listen when you are being a dramatic, self-involved teenager but also to challenge you to seek your identity in Christ.  I promise to try to be nice to your girlfriends, but just know that none of them will be good enough for you.  I promise to trust your decisions but to offer guidance when needed.  I promise to disciple your heart and seek the sincerity behind your words. I promise to apologize when I fail you, so you can see that I am human.

As many promises as I can make to you, nothing compares to the love of your heavenly Father, which is why I pray for you often.  I am praying now that God saves you.  I know that he's made you fearfully and wonderfully in His image. I pray that He will call you to something great that brings glory to Him.  I pray that your heart always be intertwined with His, that your passion would be to love people as Christ loves you.  I pray that you would always see yourself as a son of God and ignore the lies Satan will whisper.  I pray that by God's grace you would be a light to all those you meet.  I pray that you have a compassion and empathy for those who are lost and that God would give you a boldness to step out in His name to bring them to Him.  I pray that you could offer grace and understanding to others better than your mom does.  And I pray that you always know how much your dad and I love you.  That we will never stop hugging you, kissing you, embarrassing you, encouraging you, getting frustrated with you, listening to you, and praying for you.

Sweet Knox,
I can't wait to tell you how much I love you.
I can't wait to tell you how excited I am that you are mine.
I can't wait to tell you about this letter.

Now, please, bro, GET OUT OF MY BELLY!