Nich and I have been writing letters to our baby boy since the first day we heard his little heartbeat (at eleven weeks). We keep them in a journal, and both of us write whenever we want to. There's no system, no schedule, no set topics. We just write our thoughts. Sometimes they're silly, sometimes they're reflective, and sometimes, we're just telling him what's going on with him at the moment and how we feel about it.
I like to tell Baby G about his daddy.
Mostly, that's because Nich is the one person with whom I am sharing this experience most intimately, but it's also because he's one person in the entire world I love the most. He's smart, noble, kind, so darn funny, and most of all, a godly man.
Recently, a friend asked me how I knew that Nich was someone I could marry when we started dating (which had been my strict standard for dating). I didn't even really need to think about it. The reason I knew was that when I met Nich, I knew that there was no way that I -- or anybody else -- would ever come before God to him. He has his priorities well-aligned, and that more than anything else in his character, gave me the confidence to know I could trust him with my heart.
Now we're waiting for this little boy to arrive, our little boy. And I love sharing this journey with Nich. Because when the eleventh person asks us on a Sunday morning whether we know "what" we're having, Nich will say, "Yes, it's a turtle," just to make me laugh. When they ask what the baby's name is going to be, Nich will come up with the most ridiculous names (the current one is "Buford Beauregard") because I'm getting tired of telling people that we're not sharing until Baby G is born. And when I get grossed out with all the sneezing, sniffling, coughing, red-nosed, germ-infested people who insist on coming to church, he'll walk out and sit in the foyer with me for the service. He gives me back rubs, foot massages, helps cook dinner, thinks it's "cute" when Baby G moves (which is still quite frequently), and talks to the baby to convince him to come out: "Hello, baby! You can come on out now! Your room's all ready for you!"
He still goes into the nursery once or twice a night to "just look," and I love how excited he is to be a daddy.
And finally, I love that in my tenth month, I don't weigh anywhere near what Nich weighs. I know that sounds kind of dumb, because Nich's pretty slender, but I was determined to not surpass my husband in weight with this pregnancy. I told him this last night, and he got quite the kick out of it.
Whatever.
A girl's got to have goals.
I probably won't write about the weight thing in Baby G's journal. Or maybe I will. He's got to learn sometime about being sensitive to women and our idiosyncratic needs, right? Even if they make absolutely no sense to him, at least he'll be aware. Or he'll just laugh, which is okay, too. After all, we can't take ourselves too seriously.
I like to tell Baby G about his daddy.
Mostly, that's because Nich is the one person with whom I am sharing this experience most intimately, but it's also because he's one person in the entire world I love the most. He's smart, noble, kind, so darn funny, and most of all, a godly man.
Recently, a friend asked me how I knew that Nich was someone I could marry when we started dating (which had been my strict standard for dating). I didn't even really need to think about it. The reason I knew was that when I met Nich, I knew that there was no way that I -- or anybody else -- would ever come before God to him. He has his priorities well-aligned, and that more than anything else in his character, gave me the confidence to know I could trust him with my heart.
Now we're waiting for this little boy to arrive, our little boy. And I love sharing this journey with Nich. Because when the eleventh person asks us on a Sunday morning whether we know "what" we're having, Nich will say, "Yes, it's a turtle," just to make me laugh. When they ask what the baby's name is going to be, Nich will come up with the most ridiculous names (the current one is "Buford Beauregard") because I'm getting tired of telling people that we're not sharing until Baby G is born. And when I get grossed out with all the sneezing, sniffling, coughing, red-nosed, germ-infested people who insist on coming to church, he'll walk out and sit in the foyer with me for the service. He gives me back rubs, foot massages, helps cook dinner, thinks it's "cute" when Baby G moves (which is still quite frequently), and talks to the baby to convince him to come out: "Hello, baby! You can come on out now! Your room's all ready for you!"
He still goes into the nursery once or twice a night to "just look," and I love how excited he is to be a daddy.
And finally, I love that in my tenth month, I don't weigh anywhere near what Nich weighs. I know that sounds kind of dumb, because Nich's pretty slender, but I was determined to not surpass my husband in weight with this pregnancy. I told him this last night, and he got quite the kick out of it.
Whatever.
A girl's got to have goals.
I probably won't write about the weight thing in Baby G's journal. Or maybe I will. He's got to learn sometime about being sensitive to women and our idiosyncratic needs, right? Even if they make absolutely no sense to him, at least he'll be aware. Or he'll just laugh, which is okay, too. After all, we can't take ourselves too seriously.
The journal idea is really neat...what a precious gift to your little man! Talk about being an intentional parent!
ReplyDelete