It has been a few months since Mama has written you a letter. In fact, the last time I “penned” a letter to you, was in < href = " July . At that time, your Daddy and I referred to you as Peanut, since we didn’t know if you were a boy or a girl — and it also referred to you teeny tiny size. All that has changed now.
We have sinced discovered that you are indeed a baby girl…..our first daughter….and while you are still very small, teeny tiny is no longer an apt description of you. At our last ultrasound you were weighing 1.6 pounds — and the doctor estimates you are over 2 pounds now.
You know that I talk to you throughout the day, telling you my hopes for you, my dreams. Every night, Daddy talks to you – encouraging to kick and move so that he can laugh at the weird shapes that Mama’s tummy takes on. However, you show your independence and kick after he has stopped trying to intice you.
But today, as I listened to Christmas music — my thoughts turned to another mother — one who long ago waited on the birth of her son. The mother was Mary, her son was Jesus. I wonder how she found the strength to make the long journey from her home to Bethelem, while riding a donkey. Your own Mama grows irritable and tired if I have to ride in the truck/car for more than an hour. I think how she must of felt – delivering her child – in a dirty stable. I’ve seen the room where you will enter this world, I know your doctor very well, and each nurse who will care for you is a family friend….. and yet, the thought of your delivery still gives me a moment of fear and uncertainity. But most of all, I think of Mary and that she knew the great sacrifice her son would make. That she raised her child knowing her would die for her, and me, and even you Joycelen.
As your Mama, I want to protect you from every hurt and pain imaginable — while you are in the womb and once you are in the world. Yet, I know I won’t be able to accomplish my goal. You will experience bumps, bruises, scraped knees, and even a broken heart. And those thoughts make me hurt. I can not fathom the pain Mary must have felt knowing that he son would suffer and die — and then to watch it and know that she played a role in his pain.
However, Mary was willing to sacrifice to be a part of God’s plan — and that is something that I can strive to do. And as you grow older, Joycelen, your Daddy and I will work to teach you of God’s love, mercy, and His grace….and we will pray that you too will seek to serve him.