To my precious Lila,
As I sit writing this, I am almost 38 weeks pregnant. That is very, very big pregnant. For some time now, I have wanted to write you a letter that you can read one day when you are a grown up little girl and laugh at your sappy, emotional mom. For me to be able to write you this letter is a miracle. Your dad and I have been praying for you for many years before you were born. You were not a surprise baby or a “maybe we should think about getting pregnant and then…whoops!” baby. I will explain all of this to you one very awkward day when you will turn red with the sheer embarrassment of your mom even knowing about the birds and the bees.
No, you little Lila Bean, are a miracle. Your dad and I prayed and waited, and waited and prayed, and took lots of shots and went to lots of doctors who told us we might never be able to conceive you. But we knew. We knew that God had placed you in our hearts and that He would fulfill his promises to us. We knew that one day, we would be given this precious gift and we would never forget the rocky, long, arduous road we took to hold you in our arms.
Your middle name is Addision, after a street in Chicago, where we had to travel to get pregnant with you. We believe that God wanted us to exhaust every option so that when he did place you in my womb and help you grow, there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind that your life was special and set apart. We want you to always speak your middle name with pride and know that it is a testimony to God’s promises and unfailing love.
The ten months I carried you were not easy. You had a twin brother, Wrigley, who you will see one day in Heaven. It was so very hard to say goodbye to him, but still we knew, that God’s plan would take us through this storm and that only through trusting him can we ever feel peace.
I cherished every movement I felt inside of me as you were growing and being knit together. To know that there was a tiny human being that was totally reliant on me was exhilarating. I believe God gave us this time to bond us together and to slowly make me into a mother. You loved to kick my ribs and we would play lots of games, like where I would put my mug of tea on my tummy just to annoy you and make you push it away. You were a feisty little one, right from the beginning.
Your dad and I would sit at night and watch my belly rolling like the waves from all your kicks, and elbow punches, and hiccups inside. You loved to hear his voice and would always turn to him when he whispered to you. We would sit and dream out loud about the kind of baby, kind of girl, kind of woman you would become. What color would your hair be? Would you have your daddy’s chin? Would you have my ridiculously big eyes (or baby alien eyes as your Uncle Jonny calls them when he laughs at my baby pictures)? Would you like to dress up and twirl like Aunt Katelyn? Or go fishing like Uncle Pat? Although we have a hard time picturing you as shy and quiet, as we know that nurture has something to do with it, and this is not a shy household.
It’s almost time to see your beautiful face. Every morning we wake up and ask, “Is today Lila’s birthday? Is today the day we get to meet our special girl?” One day soon, it will be. And we know that day will be a celebration for so many people who have prayed for you every day of this long pregnancy. Who knew that you were worth fighting for because you are a gift from God. Mommy cannot wait till I get to stare into those eyes and thank God with all my heart for sending you to me. For trusting me to raise you as a woman of God who will never forget that hope is the strongest thing you can ever hold on to.
Our verse throughout this pregnancy has been Romans 15:13, “May the God of hope fill you will with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Lila, we hope for a life of love and passion and tenacity and strength of character and big, awesome, pie in the sky dreams for you. We hope for all of this in Jesus name.
Your mommy and daddy