What a difference a year makes

January 19, 2009

Dear Aaron,

When we sat together in the dim light of the early dawn this morning, you sleeping soundly in my arms, your soft, smooth skin perfectly edible, I could not help but think back to the moment you were born almost exactly one year ago.

Giving birth was life-changing all four times, but yours was special because it happened as I like to think God intended–free of the hospital, in a nice, cozy, warm bed, in the company of midwives who appreciate and understand the natural process which is childbirth. There were no drugs and no schedules to keep. Sure there was pain, but it was welcomed pain; there is such a thing. It was calm, quiet, almost reverent. My only regret was not doing it that way the three times before.

I wonder a lot about how you will turn out, the last (?) of four, the one conceived and carried during one of the most difficult times of my life. Will that affect you? Did you absorb my pain so that it is inextricably incorporated into the fiber of who you are? And if the pain was absorbed, then I pray the one thing that kept me going–the knowledge that God will never let go–was embedded even more. I don’t claim to know how it all works, but I do know that even while I may have been unraveling on the outside, God was purposefully, deliberately and carefully weaving you together on the inside.

A year is not a long time to establish a personality–or at least reveal it–but we do get glimpses of what may come. Your older brother, two years your senior, has unashamedly picked on you and pushed you around, almost since the moment we carried you through the door. Consequently, you have had your share of bumps and bruises. Apparently you tired of the abuse, because in the last few weeks, you have somehow learned all on your own, that your teeth come in quite handy when you want to communicate your displeasure with being ill-treated. You have not yet drawn blood, but you have left a few welts. And I admit, it’s hard for me to scold you when you bite because frankly, I’m quite impressed by your self-taught skill.

On one hand, a year is hardly any time at all. On the other hand, a year can make a world of difference. It has certainly made a difference for you. And you have certainly made a wonderful difference for me.

Related posts:

1. The bright spot in my dark year
2. My year away
3. My dark year of the soul
4. The littles run amuck
5. I can’t tell you how happy this makes me

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