He is here.

A wonderful three word sentence.  He is here right now in my arms while I juggle my coffee and computer because for days I have said to him, I will write you.  It has been so long, it feels like it has been ages since we first knew of him, since the constant ultrasounds, the diagnosis that left me afraid of my body, the early planned c-section, the medical discourse full of fear and terrible words: brain health, failure to thrive, blood sugar.

But he is here and he is wonderful.  He is right now sleeping with that mouth cracked and those hands up by the cheeks that are finally rounding.   He is the neediest relationship I have experienced and still, after I tuck him in, walk away, close the nursery door, I miss him from a place in my heart that was born with him.  I miss him even after the inconsolable days, the screaming, sobbing, sleepless days.

He has opened everything.  Is that the right word?  He has invaded my thoughts on politics, on decor, on education, on spending, on time.  On his father.  The man I married is now larger, too.  He is cleaning the kitchen at night, refilling the water bottles, thanking me constantly, in charge of baths.  He is a new, soft voice.  He is a parent, just like that.

Just like that, Bug.  Just like that you were born and we were moved in both obvious ways (we have a will now and a new budget and a deep freeze and I never knew I would be so excited about cloth diapers, piling up milk, baby gear) and less obvious ways (we read about the sacredness of parenting on the nights we aren't too tired, our prayers for the church are more fervent, our prayers for you-- all fire and praise)  I still stumble over new words: son, mother, father, our family.  I try to use them sparingly; I don't want to wear out the wonder and I sometimes forget they are mine.  The greatest thing you did when you were born, though, the most beautiful and haunting shift you brought is this: my understanding of The Father exploded.

Burst.

You were born and suddenly I knew a love I had only read about.  You were born and The Father stirred this tired heart, He tore down my ideas of His goodness, His love and He smiled, I am sure of it.  It is just like Him, isn't it?  It is just like Him to love His people enough to destroy them (in the best way) with a small, absolutely helpless babe.

What a gift.