Chip

My older son is all my hopes and dreams for a little boy balled up and crammed into a lean little excited puppy. His emotions are raw and unfiltered, from elation to despair - sometimes existing and bursting forth within a half second of each other. He has no inhibitions to feel embarrassed or ashamed of his hot tears or unbridled laughter - and I already grieve the day he does. He is too rough with his sisters (someone always gets hurt), but wants his face and body pressed tight against mine when I am putting him to bed at night. He is the snuggliest of cuddlers. He is wild and often unaware of the reason he does things, which proves to be challenging when there’s a crying toddler left in his wake and he doesn’t quite recall exactly what happened. He moves before he thinks. He exasperates and mesmerizes me - but of this I am sure: he is exactly what I longed for.

I have a vivid memory from early into his pregnancy: laying in bed, unable to sleep, with my hands resting on my womb. I stared at the ceiling, contemplating what life would be like eight months from that moment - with three chicks in my nest instead of just two. I spoke a soft prayer over that poppyseed-sized life, humbly asking God for a little boy. I always wanted a girl, and I felt total peace about having another to add to our two daughters, but in the depths of my heart, when I was completely honest with myself, I longed to experience motherhood with a son.

A couple of weeks after that prayer, we decided we weren’t going to find out if that baby was a boy or girl until the birth. I knew I had to protect myself from disappointment, so I tucked away those early longings and truly made peace with both possibilities. I was so pleasantly surprised when he was born.

Then at a few weeks old, I was rocking him in the glider in his room: the same room that was our bedroom before and during his pregnancy. He was a colicky newborn who loved to be held and I was so thankful for him, but also so exhausted deep in my bones. It struck me, as I rocked back and forth, that I was sitting in the exact place where I laid in my bed that night. The prayer I prayed silently, with complete vulnerability and honesty, confessing the desires of my heart – it was answered, there in my arms.

He is energetic and funny and affectionate and perfect in every way. He quickly brings me to the end of myself and yet, leaves me bubbling over with gratitude and awe for the picture of life that he is. He encapsulates the childhood human experience in its purest form: emotive and honest and unpredictable, but equally authentic and sincere and innocent. I know at some point that will change, and he will grow to have reservations, but for now, I will marvel at the wonder of my boy and memorize this sacred snapshot in time.

Thank you, Chip, for literally being my dream brought to life.

No, you still cannot run in the house.