Dear Sweet Little Person,
That’s what I call you most of the time. Little Person. It just seems to suit you. You sure are adorable. I look forward to starting every day with you, to dressing you in fashionable little outfits, to nursing you, laughing with you, dancing with you, getting you up from a nap. You smile all day long, it seems, and even when I’ve been out of sorts about something you’re still happy. What a blessing you have been to your grieving parents. We didn’t know we needed you, but God knew we needed you.
I often wonder who you will be and what you will show me about life. I’m almost certain you’ll be a charmer and flirter (much to your father’s chagrin! 😉 ). I have so many ideas of things you could do and things you might love. Will you love playing with dolls like I did? Would you enjoy doing martial arts? What about horse-back riding (we really want you take lessons!)? Will you care for every fuzzy animal like I do? Would you rather go hunting with your dad? Which classic will be your favorite childhood book, and will you adore all fairies and princesses?
Ah well, whatever you love and whatever you do and, truly, whoever you will be, I will love you, dearest EveyMarie.
You know, you’re quite the miracle baby! My oven gave up on baking you and popped you right out, whether we were ready or not! You seemed ready, all right. Your heart stayed steady while I was bleeding out and when the doctor lifted all three pounds and fifteen ounces of you out of the womb he said, “She’s a feisty one!” as you punched the air with your tiny fists and sputtered with your little red face. Maybe you’re one of those that’s a real doll but can sucker a punch when no one’s looking 😉
I was a miracle baby myself, as a matter of fact. Your grandmother was forty-one when she gave birth to me! She didn’t want to have me, interestingly enough. It was hard for her, because your uncles (my big brothers) were getting older and she was ready to move on from mommyhood. Kind of like it was hard for me to have you – I missed your sister Heidi so much I didn’t know if I could ever love you enough. Anyway, back in the day when I was born the docs told your grandmother that I might have all sorts of problems. Kind of like how they told me that you might have all sorts of problems since you were born eight weeks early. Well, girlfriend, we are the champs, because we ain’t got no problems and we can fool anybody with that twinkle in the eye.
As I write this letter to you, I remember what it was like for me to be a kid. I didn’t have developmental problems, per se, but I did have learning delays. Your grandmother never thought I’d know how to spell any word much less spell my own name! I had a lot of trouble with remembering the sounds of words, how to use words, how to write words; and math, oh dear, let’s not go there. One day, after lots of therapy and hours of your grandmother’s precious time, my brain arrived and somehow I caught up. And look at me now! I mean, really, I can write a silly little letter to you, can’t I? ;P
There may be some hard time ahead for you, too, EveyMarie, but you’ll do fine. You’ll dream under the stars and run like the wind and dance like your ol’ white folk! And you’ll be somebody, whoever that is, brave and smart and kind and good. You’ll change the world, my friend. Maybe just the world around you, but you’ll make it a better place, because God made you so.