He wanted a baby brother.
Oh, how he wanted a brother.
So he came to me while my body still carried our new baby, this Open Window of a moment with my boy and I told him God knew and we would pray and trust Him together and he hurried off and I didn't know how his heart would fare if I birthed a girl.
Surely it will be another boy, said everyone always. You have four. It must be another.
And, then she came.
Into our world - a pink, squeaky bundle of baby girl and just moments after she was born, I thought of him and his heart and I could hardly bear the thought of seeing longing on his face if he looked at her and his heart was broken.
Because he is my first baby and I feel this can't put my finger on it connection with him, a bit different from the others, and pain on his face is my pain, too.
It has been eight months yesterday and when I think back on those first moments after she was born, I never could've imagined this love.
The way he looks at her and loves her and races through the door after school to play with her.
The look on his face when he holds her and the day he begged us to bring her to his class play because "Everyone will love her. And, she's so good Mom and it's okay if she cries because it's soft and..."
"Mom, she's our girl."
And, his love for her reminds me.
Of His love for me:
Sometimes God doesn't give us what we ask for.
He gives us something better.