When I was pregnant, I had a Facebook status once thanking everyone who tells pregnant women they are beautiful, because I am not a beautiful pregnant woman. I know what you’re thinking: Oh, all pregnant women are beautiful! They glow! I did not glow. I was swollen, especially my face and especially my nose. My eyes got puffy and I was sweaty and gross and tired and spacey. I was not beautiful, but when someone saw beyond the physical to the miracle growing inside of me and told me I looked pretty, it meant The World to me!
In this post, I want to thank my friends who love my babies. An old college friend commented today on a picture I posted of our baby girl, calling her beautiful. It made me cry. Here is the deal about being parentless, motherless—there is no one to spoil my babies, no one to coo at them, no one to shower them with unnecessary presents, no one to think they’re perfect. I know my sisters adore—ADORE—my babies, but they are very, very far away. So when my friends dote on my babies, it helps fill that hole in my heart that aches for my children to be loved and cared for.
When Von was littler and I was pregnant, I used to take him out of the nursery for Communion at church every week to be prayed over. Now that we have Ann, I can’t do that, but I ask for Ann to be prayed for every week. And it makes me cry that someone cares enough to pray for my little girl. They often also pray for Von, which makes me cry twice as much.
When my sisterfriend Polly begs for time with Ann so I can have a Von-date, my heart aches with gratitude in her pursuit of my daughter. When Kara asks Von for squeaky kisses and sneaks him away to cuddle and read, my heart melts. When Caroline stayed with Von overnight unexpectedly when I was giving birth to Ann, I cried tears of humility that someone loves me and my family so deeply. When Von’s eyes light up when he sees his Auntie Cosette, joy bubbles uncontrollably in my soul. When friends pass Ann around, I about crumble in thanksgiving. When the nursery workers delight in Von and tell stories of his sweetness, I want to kiss their hands.
I am so eager for my babies to be baptized. I am not sure I will be able to emotionally handle witnessing the commitment of our church family promising to love and teach and help with my children. I take that promise seriously when I make it and will hold my Westside family to their promise.
I don’t know how to thank those of you who love my babies and who are helping us raise them. Your love for us is overwhelming, undeserved, and full of grace. I hope you always know the debt I feel, the happy, wonderful, unpayable, blessed debt. Thank you.