Letters to Arlo, on the Eve of your Sixth Month.

November 16, 2011

Letters to Arlo, on the Eve of your Sixth Month.

Dear Arlo,

You are six months old tomorrow and I am listening to the playlist I made for the night you were born. I remember carefully listening to each song, balancing the laptop over my big belly and trying to pick just the right mix of music to welcome you into the world. As I write this, in between lilty lyrics and pretty choruses , flashes of our first meeting play out in my head. I remember your tiny fingers outstretched, my hair wet and clingy to my shoulders, and the back-lit shape of your father’s lips saying “Hello son”.

The night you were born was one of the best of my entire life. Bringing you into this world made me believe that I really can do anything and it solidified the creeping suspicion in my heart that the reason God put me on this earth was to be a mother. With you in one arm, and Everly in the other, I looked down at you both and felt for the first time that I had my answers. There was no more wondering who I would become or what my legacy would be. I was made to nurture and love you and I will spend the rest of my life doing it to the best of my ability.

Your first six months of life have not been without their challenges. Together we have battled many episodes of severe reflux. We have searched for answers in test after test at the offices of various specialists (A Radiologist, Cardiologist, Urologist, and two Opthalmologists to be exact). We have tried to make sense of conditions that we never anticipated. Despite these things, you are a healthy, vibrant, little boy. Everyone is constantly commenting on how strong, happy and sweet natured you are.

Next month you have your first surgery to start correcting some of your health problems- I get frightened when I think about them putting you to sleep but God has been quieting my fears. Whenever the worry creeps in, I hear Him call on my heart “I have big plans for this small boy” and I believe with everything inside of me that he will watch over you and help guide us through these surgeries.

Arlo, I know that what lies ahead of you is so great that my heart nearly burst with anticipation for your future. There is an indescribable wonderness to your spirit. I try daily to put words around it - your father and I have had countless conversations on how there is just something about you - inside you - radiating out and all over us. A tangible peace. A soulful joy. I look forward to the day the whole world can see and feel and know the plans God is whispering in our ears about you.

These days, I watch as you are putting together what you know of the world. Yesterday you army crawled and rolled across the rug in the living room to get to a little sliver of sunlight that was shining down. You studied it so intently, batting your chubby fingers in the white light in an attempt to touch it. At night when you are close to sleep, you run your fingertips down the palm of my hands and over the length of my fingers as I turn them over for you again and again. It has become our ritual, the familiar warmth of my body curled around yours, our hands turning over in one another’s, as you ever so slowly fall away to dream.

You are my night owl. My morning bird. Wise, wondrous, Magical. I could have never imagined how much you could teach me about patience, and perspective and having faith in what lies ahead. Because of you, I will never look at a full moon the same way again. Whenever I see one in the night sky, I think of the night you were born - its yellow glow there with us as we met you for the first time. I think of your little round face, your beaming spirit, and the brilliant path that God is illuminating for our family.

Happy six months, my baby.

The biggest love,

Mama