I remember being in the ultrasound room, waiting for the words “It’s a girl!”
Your dad was secretly videoing with his phone, ready to send out the news to family.
I dreamed of bows and tea parties, an afternoon full of coloring and dancing and talking about unicorns.
My stomach filled with butterflies… (and tiny baby kicks), I was ready to hear who you were going to be.
“It’s a boy!”
A boy? I didn’t know what to do with boys. I was happy to hear that you were healthy, and I loved that you were mine, but I couldn’t help but think that God had no idea what he was doing….giving me a boy.
But he wasn’t just “giving me a boy”. He was giving me you. You, Luke.
You have taught me more about love, sacrifice, joy, and fear in the 5 years you have been alive, than any teacher could ever teach in a lifetime.
The day you came, I had no idea that my heart could literally be felt outside of my body. I was absolutely enamored with your tiny 8 pound body smushed against mine. Your crinkled face and half shut eyes. Your tiny breath…If I close my eyes today, I can still hear it in that sterile hospital room. I was so in love with you I couldn’t sleep. I asked the nurses that night if it was normal to not be able to sleep after giving birth, and they laughed….. saying “welcome to the next 18 years of your life”.
They were right. I have spent many hours awake in the middle of the night with you. I don’t regret any minute of it.
You were the perfect baby. You were always so content, so easygoing, ready to laugh and play… and go along with whatever crazy thing your mom thought of next. And you know?…You are still that way. Your kindhearted and tender little soul lights up any room you walk into. If I were a kid, I would wanna be your best friend.
I spent many, many hours learning how to “be a mom” on you. (Still doing that, actually) You have been overprotected and worried over more times than I would like to admit. I have stared at your face for hours, studying your features detail by detail. I love your nose. Your big brown eyes. Those long eyelashes and that quirky smile you give when you are in a silly mood.
Ever since you were 2 years old, you have been a boy of passion. Actually, you personify passion.
At that age, your passion was Thomas The Train. In fact, you fell in love with all of the characters. You memorized them. You studied them. You knew all of their numbers, their colors, their jobs. Rocky, Harvey, Gordon, and James were some of your favorites. You would sleep with those trains every night, play with your trains almost everywhere we went, and could build a train track better than a 6 year old. You learned your entire alphabet and all of your numbers by 2 1/2, because of a few Thomas Puzzles I had bought you. We memorized the theme song together. Daddy spent hours making you a Thomas The Train Birthday Cake just so he could see the delight on your face when you ran out of your room that morning. That was a fun day. You were so grateful and so happy.
Because you loved Thomas, Daddy and I loved Thomas.
For the past 5 (almost 6!) years, you have been an absolute gift to your family.
A gift to your 4 year old sister, a gift to your baby brother, a gift to your grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins.
Tomorrow, you will be a gift to a whole new world.
I am excited for this next chapter in life for you. You are going to do so great. You have always been good with transition, and I don’t think this will be any different for you.
I have to let a part of you go, something that will continue to come in little waves throughout the course of your life. It’s hard for me, as it’s hard for any mom. But you are just on loan to me from God. He has all the details….all the plans….all the adventures already written in your book, and he’s waiting to go on this next journey with you.
His little baby, you’ll always be. Even when you grow away from me.
