I confessed to my husband that I was guilty of being a wishful thinker. Long before I met him and a lot longer before we met our son, I would look at mothers struggling with their little "butter-ball" baby on their hip, huffing and puffing and saying at the same time, "You are just the cutest thing in the world." I never thought so. I always wished for a slender, light, petite baby...and that would make him the cutest.
Then he came along. He was only the size of a pea when we first knew he was there. Nine months and eleven days later, I couldn't even look at myself. There goes the wish of a petite baby...still, I was optomistic and told people I was blessed to have a big, healthy baby. I thought I was going to die by the time I had to push you out. I almost cried when they didn't put him on my tummy once he was born, but took him right over to the lights to clean him off.
From that distance, I couldn't get a good look at him, but called from where I was on the bed. Finally, I held him. Thank God his eyes were wide open...and his face said to me, "I'm perfect." He was.
Even now, his belly hangs out from over his pants and his thighs are so big his daddy can't get his hand all the way around one of them. At three and a half months old he is in nine month size clothes and in need of a bigger car seat and a more stable crib. But, he is still a sweet little baby, and I know that when I look into that perfect face. Those dark blue eyes, those eyes I was wishing to be brown, harmonize perfectly with your small button nose. His nose is neither from me or his father...it's his. Then his mouth....oh! his mouth! His mouth never seems to stop smiling. Even when he cries, it hardly screws over...only from it comes a heart-breaking sound to say, "Mama, come here. I need you."
I needed him. I look at him and I know that God knew what he was doing. I could never have created him and have more perfect than he is now. I know that God formed every part of him with me and my husband in mind. I could go on, but we have time for that later in his life.
Then he came along. He was only the size of a pea when we first knew he was there. Nine months and eleven days later, I couldn't even look at myself. There goes the wish of a petite baby...still, I was optomistic and told people I was blessed to have a big, healthy baby. I thought I was going to die by the time I had to push you out. I almost cried when they didn't put him on my tummy once he was born, but took him right over to the lights to clean him off.
From that distance, I couldn't get a good look at him, but called from where I was on the bed. Finally, I held him. Thank God his eyes were wide open...and his face said to me, "I'm perfect." He was.
Even now, his belly hangs out from over his pants and his thighs are so big his daddy can't get his hand all the way around one of them. At three and a half months old he is in nine month size clothes and in need of a bigger car seat and a more stable crib. But, he is still a sweet little baby, and I know that when I look into that perfect face. Those dark blue eyes, those eyes I was wishing to be brown, harmonize perfectly with your small button nose. His nose is neither from me or his father...it's his. Then his mouth....oh! his mouth! His mouth never seems to stop smiling. Even when he cries, it hardly screws over...only from it comes a heart-breaking sound to say, "Mama, come here. I need you."
I needed him. I look at him and I know that God knew what he was doing. I could never have created him and have more perfect than he is now. I know that God formed every part of him with me and my husband in mind. I could go on, but we have time for that later in his life.
Ahhh...yes, he's the sweetest thing! I miss cuddling him and humming him to sleep.
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