Dear Thomas,
Oh, my sweet Thomas. This year has probably been the quickest of my life. Your first year on the planet!
You should know that I grew up wanting to be a mom more than anything in the world. Probably because my mom (your Lovie) was such a warm, nurturing, fun, silly mom, and she made it look fun and joyous. In high school and college, I definitely had career goals and aspirations, but really, at the end of the day, my dream job answer, if being completely honest, was to be a mom.
You are pure joy, sweet child of mine. You have your daddy's never ending good-natured spirit. Except for when you get hungry, and you make your little hands into fists. You grunt and raise your eyebrows and yell, until you are given food as fast as we can get it in your mouth. Daddy is the same way - patient as the day is long, until he's gone too many hours between meals, and boom, that's it. You are two peas in a pod, in so many ways. I love raising a mini-Drew. You are so very fortunate to have him as your daddy - what a guy!
You are pure joy, sweet child of mine. Did I already say that? I hope that sinks in on tough days: you are so loved, so wanted.
You have taught me so very much in these 52 weeks.
You are such a "good" baby. Everyone says so. People cannot believe how smiley you are and how easy going (until they watch you eat, when you grunt and shake your fists as previously mentioned.) What a good temperament you have. They also always, always comment on how strong you are. From the very beginning when you came home holding your head up from the hospital for a few seconds at a time, they've said: what a strong baby!
Your big eyes and your excitement and your sweet smile - I want to remember it forever. I want to remember how you light up when your daddy comes home, and you shriek with excitement when you pet Doc, our labrador, and how excited you are to see Clare, and how much you jabber when Honey comes over. You love to see BB and Lovie and Robbie and Fafa - clapping your hands when you see them! A baby's enthusiasm for life is something to be emulated. I hope you carry this joyful spirit with you throughout your days.
Sometimes I wonder if you've met your Pops. I know, I know, that's a crazy thought, but Heaven is a crazy concept and yet something your daddy and I whole-heartedly believe in. Your grandfather-my dad-feels so close with you here. I have cried several good cries in your bedroom, in the dark, just you and me, with your head resting in the crook of my elbow as I sway you back and forth and sing you songs. I miss him so much, and I wish so much he was here to be with you, with us. But holding you, I also feel as if it's all okay.
You remind me that God is so, so, so generous to us. Your presence makes it so very hard to be sad. That's why I say I've cried several good cries - sometimes, as your grow up, you will learn that life overwhelms your heart with feelings, and they pour out of you through tears. Not all tears are sad. I cried very happy tears when you arrived in this world on June 11, 2015! I will never, ever forget when the doctor named Earl told me I would in fact not need a C-section and that it was time to start having this baby! (Earl is Popa's name, your great-great grandfather, who gave me away at mine and your daddy's wedding.)
You taught us patience before you even left my tummy. Your daddy and I kept waiting, and waiting. Doctors thought you should be born around June 3. Days passed, and no baby. No Thomas. You taught us that sometimes you have to wait, you reminded us that things are not usually on our own timeline.
I could write forever about many other things I've learned as I've begun to be a mom this past year. But really, I just want to document for the future how much you mean to us, how precious life is. Because as joyful as you are, and how lucky and blessed we feel to be parents, there continues to such hardship and sorrow in the world.
Your Uncle Gentry's very good friend from college passed away this April, a hilarious young man who loved others and lived life fully. Hunter was almost thirty years old, and for numerous days in a row after he died, I woke up in the middle of the night thinking about his mom. You should not have to say goodbye to your children. It seems unnatural, out of order. The pain she must be going through made my stomach physically hurt. I have to shake out of my mind the thought that I'd like to wrap you in bubble wrap and keep you from harm or hurt. We have to let you LIVE. Which means you're going to know pain. At your first doctor's appointment I cried when they gave you shots. It was so hard to hear you wailing loud cries and see your big tears and not be able to explain, "this is for your good." I wanted to tell you, this is going to be okay. I am sure I have years and years ahead of me of seeing you hurting and wanting to fix it. I also have years of relearning and remembering that nothing is guaranteed, especially time on this green Earth.
I have heard the verse in my head several times this year, "He will wipe every tear." It's from the book of Revelation, which I don't claim to understand too much. But I know the bible has lots of valuable things to teach us, and this verse kept coming to mind as I'd be in your room in the wee hours of night soothing you, hoping you'd soon go back to sleep. The bible says this: "He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
Sweet Thomas, I have learned much about the love of Christ this year. The Lord loves us so much, infinitely more than we can imagine. Looking at you asleep in your crib at night (I poke in almost every night before I go to bed, and your daddy laughs at me, because even though I just tucked you in a few hours before, I already can't wait to see you again.) Looking at you I think my heart must have swollen inside my chest, it is full of so much love. And you cause me to love others more - others that babysit for us when we need to leave you at home for different reasons, love for my parents and grandparents as I realize how much they did for me all during my growing up, and how much they still do, friends that patiently understand a new baby means adjustments to our social schedule... the list goes on. I've realized if I love you this much, God loves us even more. He created the stars and the skies for us. The bible says, as sure as the sun is God's love for us.
If I've learned anything this year Thomas, it's that humans make mistakes. I have messed up so many times since you arrived! I've snapped at people trying to help me (like my mom and grandmother.) I've bitten your dad's head off as I'm exhausted and realized he's just as tired -or more! I haven't burned you or dropped you - yet. But I'm sure it's coming. And I'm going to fail you in other ways, too. I don't want to, but it's inevitable. So how great that we have a God who loves us without mistake? Without fail? God's love is wider and higher and deeper and longer than anything we can understand. Even when the world is a mess. Even when we miss people who aren't here anymore. Through sunshine and rainstorms, God is love and God is near.
I pray that you carry that with you throughout the days of your life.
We love you so much, sweet child of ours.
Love,
Mom
(PS - MOM!!!!! It's so fun to say "love, mom!" I'm your mom! Brings a huge smile to my face! Mommy! I am your mommy! Oh I love you so!)
