Dear Little Man

Hey buddy.

I’m pretty sure the two of us have a rough two months ahead of us. Well, I guess I do. You are warm and cozy. You have been growing into a precious bundle of joy for 30 weeks now. It’s like my body recognized that we’re in the third trimester and decided to bring on a whole world of pregnancy symptoms and amplify the symptoms I already have. I’m not going to lie. I’m incredibly miserable, fatigued, uncomfortable, sick, and have this CONSTANT burning pain in the top of my stomach due to some extreme indigestion. No blame on you, although if you think about it, none of this would be happening to me if you weren’t taking up ALL the room in my torso. I mean…that’s just the truth. So maybe I am blaming you, but I’m certainly not complaining about you or the misery you are causing my body.

The mere fact that God decided your daddy, sister, and I are deserving of you is humbling.

Your Nana and T-Bone bought you a few things. The UPS man delivered them today and I just sat in the living room floor and cried. To say my hormones are making me emotional is such an understatement right now. That and not sleeping…the combination of both is so very scary because you just don’t know what might make me cry.

I’m trying really hard to not wish away these next two months for many reasons. It’s so easy, though. I mean the physical pain is one thing. Yes, I would enjoy a night of sleep. Or even a nap. Much more than that, though, is my absolute excitement for you to be here. Unlike when I was pregnant with your adorable sister, I am not nervous about what the heck is going to happen when you enter the world. Your sister taught me that all the difficult things are just seasons. Good things can, do, and will happen. And I know that even the hard stuff can be viewed in the rear view mirror as a good and missed memory.

I know this time around that sleepless nights end, formula is not from the devil and I’m not making a unwise choice if I don’t breastfeed, liquid poop that smells like hot pepper soup does come out of clothes, it’s completely acceptable to cover up the remains of a leaky diaper at 3am with a towel and change the sheets in the morning, not everything that goes in your mouth or hands has to be sterilized in a boiling pot of water for 15 minutes, Dreft is just a ploy to get me to buy expensive detergent, putting your diaper bag on the floor at a restaurant doesn’t necessarily mean that a deadly germ is going to climb into your closed container of formula, thumb-sucking isn’t the end of the world and your teeth will be just fine, the dog will eat your spit-up before I can even comprehend that you spit-up, and I don’t have to do what the “experts” say because I’m your mom and know you better than them.

More importantly, I know you have a daddy that loves you like Jesus does and he will sacrifice everything for you. I know that because he does it everyday for your sister and me. And I know that you have a sister that is more excited about your arrival than a kid headed to Disney World. She is nurturing, loving, thoughtful, and oh so caring. You are one blessed brother to have her to show you the ropes.

Most importantly, I know that you have a Father that fearfully and wonderfully formed you in my womb. He has good and perfect plans for your life. He loves you with a flawless love, more than we could ever imagine loving you.

Oh yeah, and you have this insane dog named Sanibel that will lick you until you think you can’t possibly be licked anymore, then she will lick you some more. It’s really annoying, but she’s not going to stop. It’s her love language. And despite what others think, it’s not a big deal at all. Lily has survived thus far with lots of kisses from Sanibel. I think you will too. Think of it as a way to strengthen your immune system.

I’m ready for July. I know all the good that is to come and it makes the hard stuff secondary. We are ready to kiss your face and make memories with you.

With all my love,

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