baby cake...
I found out about you a few days before my 31st birthday. I had a sneaking suspicion that you were there because my sense of smell had intensified. A lot. Not a usual sign of pregnancy but it seemed odd to me that all of the sudden I had the nose of a hound dog. And so I took a pregnancy test on a Thursday night and there was a faint pink line. I wanted to tell your dad right then but it was time for bed and I knew this kind of news wasn't just something to mutter before turning out the lights and saying good night. The pink line was darker the next morning. Should I wait, should I go ahead and say something? Six months earlier I experienced a miscarriage, and so I was a little unsure of sharing the news. But the truth is, every pregnancy is worth celebrating and celebrating is what we did.
Your sister, Annabeth, and I went to the grocery store and bought a cake. You'll learn that our family usually celebrates good news with food, and we're always looking for a reason to satisfy our sweet teeth. It was a tiny white cake with a yellow flower. I placed it in the back of the refrigerator so no one would see it and ask questions. We went on about our day, anxiously waiting for your dad to get home, and after dinner I casually said, "Oh, I stopped by the store today and picked us up some dessert!" When I placed the cake on the table a look of worry and fear covered his face as he said, "Um, did I forget something? I know your birthday is on Monday but is there something else to celebrate?" Your sister has recently learned that cakes and presents are for birthdays so she gladly chanted, "Happy cake! Happy cake!" as your dad thought through every possible important date we might celebrate and came to no conclusion. "Look at the cake," I said. "What kind of cake is it?"
"A white cake."
"Yes, and..."
"A round cake."
"Uh huh..."
"A little cake?"
"Close, what other word could you use instead of little?"
"A tiny cake?"
"A baby cake!"
"A baby cake?! Are you being serious?"
He flew out of his chair, raced around the table and gave me the longest, tightest hug. Thinking back over our years together, I'm pretty confident that was one of the top 5 displays of excitement I've seen from your dad. Annabeth kept clapping and cheering and yelling about cake. It was a perfect little celebration. You'll never have to wonder if we're excited to have you join our family. We've already thrown a party!
A couple of weeks later I started to feel your presence in an undeniable way. I didn't have many pregnancy symptoms with your sister but you're a different story. It's already clear that you two are completely different people with your own ways. I began feeling nauseous. Not the horrible, "I think I want to vomit," kind but the annoying, lingering kind. Like permanent car sickness. It's manageable but nothing sounds or looks appetizing. And the smells. Yikes! Your dad has kindly agreed not to wear cologne for a while. I don't care how good or bad of a scent, any smell bothers me. And cooking... yuck! I had a hard time cooking when I was pregnant with your sister so we've enjoyed a lot of pathetic meals and take out. I'm tired, but that's nothing new. I am so thankful your sister takes naps because I need to take them, too. I think one of the biggest differences between the way I felt with her and you is that I wasn't chasing a toddler around the first time I was pregnant. Thankfully, I know this will go away by April at the latest!
Your dad and I struggled on finding a good time to share the news with our family. A baby is a hard secret to keep, and I'm convinced that I already look visibly pregnant. That, coupled with the fact that I've become incredible unproductive, should have been a dead give away. But no one noticed a thing. We had our first sonogram to get a peek at you, and you look like a little bean sprout. Your heartbeat measured at 189. Hearing the sound of those quick, little beats was music to my ears. I wanted to share those pictures right away, but we decided a surprise would be more fun.
Annabeth and I visit your great-grandparents each week. When I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of the year, I only told your dad. When it was short-lived, I was glad I had kept it between us. I don't mind talking about tough subjects but there wasn't much to say. I wrote what I felt, got it off my chest, and although I was sad I knew that God has a plan for our family and I have to trust He always makes the best and right decisions even if I don't agree. And so your great-grandad, who we just call Grandad, sat down and the table next to me for lunch the week after I had shared of our loss and he prayed that God would sustain me. It was really the perfect way to go about it. So many kind people reached out to me and encouraged me through their prayers, and a few months later Grandad asked if another baby was in the near future. I told him he would have to take that up with the Lord because that's who I was waiting on and God would have to decide that. He did that very thing, not bringing it up again, and so I thought it would be perfect to surprise him and let him know that his prayers had been answered and a baby was on the way.
We told him on Sunday. He cried as he hugged me, and I cried, too. It was precious. And needless to say, there was a lot of excitement and tears all around as we shared the news of your coming. So many people are looking forward to meeting you. And although I may not be as on my game during this pregnancy as I was with your sister, you better be
lieve we are just as thrilled to have you as we were to have her. We want you! We have prayed for you and asked for you. God has blessed us greatly by sending you to our family because we would be lacking without you.
I stared in awe at your sonogram picture and I thought of the words of David in Psalm 139, "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body...". Oh, sweet baby, as you grow in the dark and secret place, you are seen. You are known. You are being crafted and knitted into a great masterpiece. Your life is one of purpose. Of great potential. Of great intent. You are meant to be here, at this time, in this family, on this earth, for a reason. To be bearer of light. To be salt. To be the hands and feet of Jesus. You are covered in the fingerprints of God as is all of His creation. We thank Him that we get to be a part of your story, which is a part of a bigger story - His story. And He has given us all a story that's worth telling.
Your sister, Annabeth, and I went to the grocery store and bought a cake. You'll learn that our family usually celebrates good news with food, and we're always looking for a reason to satisfy our sweet teeth. It was a tiny white cake with a yellow flower. I placed it in the back of the refrigerator so no one would see it and ask questions. We went on about our day, anxiously waiting for your dad to get home, and after dinner I casually said, "Oh, I stopped by the store today and picked us up some dessert!" When I placed the cake on the table a look of worry and fear covered his face as he said, "Um, did I forget something? I know your birthday is on Monday but is there something else to celebrate?" Your sister has recently learned that cakes and presents are for birthdays so she gladly chanted, "Happy cake! Happy cake!" as your dad thought through every possible important date we might celebrate and came to no conclusion. "Look at the cake," I said. "What kind of cake is it?"
"A white cake."
"Yes, and..."
"A round cake."
"Uh huh..."
"A little cake?"
"Close, what other word could you use instead of little?"
"A tiny cake?"
"A baby cake!"
"A baby cake?! Are you being serious?"
He flew out of his chair, raced around the table and gave me the longest, tightest hug. Thinking back over our years together, I'm pretty confident that was one of the top 5 displays of excitement I've seen from your dad. Annabeth kept clapping and cheering and yelling about cake. It was a perfect little celebration. You'll never have to wonder if we're excited to have you join our family. We've already thrown a party!
A couple of weeks later I started to feel your presence in an undeniable way. I didn't have many pregnancy symptoms with your sister but you're a different story. It's already clear that you two are completely different people with your own ways. I began feeling nauseous. Not the horrible, "I think I want to vomit," kind but the annoying, lingering kind. Like permanent car sickness. It's manageable but nothing sounds or looks appetizing. And the smells. Yikes! Your dad has kindly agreed not to wear cologne for a while. I don't care how good or bad of a scent, any smell bothers me. And cooking... yuck! I had a hard time cooking when I was pregnant with your sister so we've enjoyed a lot of pathetic meals and take out. I'm tired, but that's nothing new. I am so thankful your sister takes naps because I need to take them, too. I think one of the biggest differences between the way I felt with her and you is that I wasn't chasing a toddler around the first time I was pregnant. Thankfully, I know this will go away by April at the latest!
Your dad and I struggled on finding a good time to share the news with our family. A baby is a hard secret to keep, and I'm convinced that I already look visibly pregnant. That, coupled with the fact that I've become incredible unproductive, should have been a dead give away. But no one noticed a thing. We had our first sonogram to get a peek at you, and you look like a little bean sprout. Your heartbeat measured at 189. Hearing the sound of those quick, little beats was music to my ears. I wanted to share those pictures right away, but we decided a surprise would be more fun.
Annabeth and I visit your great-grandparents each week. When I found out I was pregnant at the beginning of the year, I only told your dad. When it was short-lived, I was glad I had kept it between us. I don't mind talking about tough subjects but there wasn't much to say. I wrote what I felt, got it off my chest, and although I was sad I knew that God has a plan for our family and I have to trust He always makes the best and right decisions even if I don't agree. And so your great-grandad, who we just call Grandad, sat down and the table next to me for lunch the week after I had shared of our loss and he prayed that God would sustain me. It was really the perfect way to go about it. So many kind people reached out to me and encouraged me through their prayers, and a few months later Grandad asked if another baby was in the near future. I told him he would have to take that up with the Lord because that's who I was waiting on and God would have to decide that. He did that very thing, not bringing it up again, and so I thought it would be perfect to surprise him and let him know that his prayers had been answered and a baby was on the way.
We told him on Sunday. He cried as he hugged me, and I cried, too. It was precious. And needless to say, there was a lot of excitement and tears all around as we shared the news of your coming. So many people are looking forward to meeting you. And although I may not be as on my game during this pregnancy as I was with your sister, you better be
I stared in awe at your sonogram picture and I thought of the words of David in Psalm 139, "My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body...". Oh, sweet baby, as you grow in the dark and secret place, you are seen. You are known. You are being crafted and knitted into a great masterpiece. Your life is one of purpose. Of great potential. Of great intent. You are meant to be here, at this time, in this family, on this earth, for a reason. To be bearer of light. To be salt. To be the hands and feet of Jesus. You are covered in the fingerprints of God as is all of His creation. We thank Him that we get to be a part of your story, which is a part of a bigger story - His story. And He has given us all a story that's worth telling.
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