A Letter to Your Little Brother

 “And hope does not disappoint...” (Romans 5:5) 

My little baby boy, I’m overcome tonight. Overcome with a deep and intense love for you. It’s all consuming.

Yes, I have given myself permission. Permission to love you fiercely. Permission to love you freely. Permission to love you without fear or reserve. 

You occupy my mind incessantly these days. You consume my thoughts.  I can’t escape your presence, physically or mentally.  I’m watching you grow through the expansion of my belly.  I’m feeling you live through your daily kicks and motions.  I’m thinking about you all the time.

How can I think about your littlest big sister and you so intensely and simultaneously of each and every moment of every day?  It’s a mystery to me. 

You are a mystery to me. The gift of your life, through the absence of your sister’s. 

I can’t wait to meet you.

Tears brim and fall hard just thinking about you being placed into my arms alive, while the heaviness of loss intermingles with the recognition of gain.  When your birth collides with your sister’s and becomes an intimate, catastrophic reminder of how all should be.  When my physical pain unites with my emotional pain, and there’s beauty, and healing, and redemption under the question mark of surrender.  When I feel the Father’s love purposefully and with great intention, and I embrace the cross and the resurrection.  When the beauty of my brokenness is visible, and tangible, and transparent.

I can’t wait to see you.

To see you with your eyes open.  Looking into mine. Your skin, vibrant and full of color.  Your lungs, full of breath and vigor.  Your body, full of life.  To hear you cry.  To see your gaze.  To feel your heart beating against my chest.  Your tiny fingers grasping mine. 

I can’t wait for the day you come out, alive. 

I think you know I want to bring you home. That is my deepest longing.

I want to be your Mother, here, on earth.  I want to watch you grow and raise you in this crazy messiness of our house and home.  I want to tell you about your big sister in heaven.  And that she is the reason you exist. 

I need to be patient. And take one day at a time. I shouldn’t let myself look too far ahead. Each day with you is a gift. Each moment a treasure. 

I’m so thankful for you. I’m so thankful for this chance to carry you and love you.

Keep growing strong, my boy. And no funny tricks...

Be healthy. Be well. Be alive. Be mine. 

Mommy loves you.