Monday, October 26, 2009


One year ago I sat, a belly full of boy with questions dancing around my head like a mosh pit at a punk-rock concert. Would I love him as much as Hannah? What on earth was I going to do with a boy? Could I actually do this? Will I ever go into labor? Did we pick the right name? Do his initials destine him to get made fun of?

But secretly I knew. I knew that even though I wanted to have another girl, even though I had walked into the ultrasound sure that I was having a girl and already prepared with her name, even though I thought it was weird that my body was currently housing a boy who was peeing inside of me, I knew… God was smarter than me. I knew that even though my heart was not currently loving the idea of all things blue and just watching little boys play made me tired; I knew I’d be smitten.

I was right. After an entire night of being in the hospital, turning, checking, waiting, laboring and wondering if my anesthesiologist was going to deny me the right to have an epidural (another story for another day) my doctor laid my little baby boy on my stomach and I BAWLED. For those of you who don’t know me, I don’t cry. I learned a long time ago, whether it’s right or wrong, to hold in my emotions. Not at that moment. I looked in his eyes and started crying. (Heck, I’m crying now even thinking back to that moment. While I sit in the middle of Starbucks. Oh dear…) There he was.

This little man who had regarded my insides as a soccer ball ready for practice. The little man whose hiccups had made me giggle. The little man who had been peeing inside of me; however much that weirded me out. The little man who had been doing the worm inside my tummy. He was here. And he was looking at me.

I couldn’t get myself together. I loved him so deeply I was ready to give my life away for him instantaneously. I was ridiculously, whole-heartedly, head-over-heels in love.

While other newborns let out their wails to announce their grand entrance into the world, my little Jayden, laid in my arms examining our faces. (My stellar, rock-awesome husband had pretty much gotten me through it all. I have no idea where I would be without that man…) He didn’t cry, he just studied us. “Oh…so you’re that guy with the weird laugh. And you’re the one that likes to sing all the time. Hi guys.”

I wanted to press pause. I wanted to stay right there and soak up every last second of his face, his startle reflex, his BLUE eyes and his blond hair. I could have lived in that moment forever. (Although I was missing my little lady)

God was right. I knew he would be, even though my heart had not formally agreed. And I get to spend my days with the most incredibly precious, smiley, happy little man. And he is better than I ever could have imagined. Here’s to God being smarter than me. That’s a great thing.

And once I'm home and can connect to my external hard-drive, there will be some pictures of that adorable little boy... I promise

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