You turn one today little boy. At this time last year, I will never forget it. I was laboring with you in the hospital. Daddy was cheering me on, like an angel, whispering at my bedside. My midwife came in and rubbed my back.

But labor with you went on, and on.

It lasted 30 hours. 30 hours, I thought I would break.

I hung over the bed and asked Daddy to call all my friends and tell them pray.

It was the hardest day of my life.

A miracle was about to be born.

You.

 

I was on my hands and knees, in the birthing tub, and my body was shaking with every contraction. The labor had gone on so long, Daddy and the midwife were quiet. They just watched. I searched their faces and found nothing. I thought I would collapse. I thought you would never come. It felt like you were still a million miles away.

But you were right there.

Miracles are like that.

They feel like hell sometimes.

Right before heaven breaks through. 

 

There’s no epidurals for life. You feel everything.

You feel things you don’t want to feel, sometimes.

But the pain, and the agony does not even compare

to whats being birthed. 

 

When you came out, you cried, and everyone cried that you were so big. You were 9 lbs. 11 onces. And I cried, happy tears as they put you on my chest, and covered us in warm blankets. I kissed your wet head.

A miracle I held in my arms.

A gift from God.

Daddy and I cried and kissed, Selah came in and met you.

I could never earn you, I could never deserve you. How did God choose me to be your mom? I don’t know. But I’m so glad He did.

What a year it has been with you. My son. My boy, I never in a million years dreamed I would have. I still remember when the blue dust fell, at the gender reveal, and my jaw fell so hard I think it touched the lawn. I never saw it coming–you. You were one of the greatest surprises of my life. And dad cheered and jumped up and down and shouted, in a cloud of blue, because he knew you would be a boy.

This year has been so full, of you. Your laugh, your smile, your tears, your screams and your big blue eyes–that captivate me. You have brought great joy to this house. And I pray one day you bring great joy to the world.

 

We named you “Jesse,” because it means “gift.”

And that is what God showed us about you, while you were still in my tummy. That you were a “perfect gift.”

That is what you are, my son. That’s why I sing this to you when you fall asleep. And I will sing it when you are older, too. I will sing it whether you are smart, or struggle in school. I will sing it if your good at sports, or not. I will sing it when you are proud of yourself, and when you feel like a fool. I will sing it when you do great things, and when you do things that I’m ashamed of. I will sing it, because it’s true. I will sing it because you are my son.

You are perfect, to me

You are perfect, to me

You are perfect, to me,

Jesse

Be strong and brave,

Be fearless and true,

But even when you’re not

Baby, I still love you

Baby, I still love you

 

I thank God for every single day I have with you. Every day with you is a gift. My perfect gift. My Jesse.

Love,

Mom

“Every good and perfect gift from above.” James 1:17