27 Jan My son, whose name is…
A little while ago we went to see how you’re doing and how well you’re growing. I looked at the sonar screen and expected it to be filled with the same white fuzz that I always see, never quite able to make out where your head starts and where your bum ends, but there you were… clear as clear could be. Every bit of you so perfectly knitted in my womb, fighting against the odds, and reminding me of the miracle that is you.
It took every bit of strength to swallow back the tears when I finally got to hear your incredibly strong heartbeat for the first time, the beat to my drum, the rhythm to our song. I am yet to cradle you in my arms and yet you have come into our lives and changed me so much. You have reminded me just how beautiful life can be, how pure happiness comes from the small things, you have reconnected me to my faith and comforted me when I needed it the most, you have tugged on my heart strings and all while kicking me from the inside out.
Up until that morning, your dad and I had absolutely no idea of what we may call you, and it wasn’t until I was on the phone with your granny, telling her that she’d have to buy more soccer balls, dinosaurs, cars and boats, before your dad interrupted me and blurted out… ELI. Eli, I like that.
We looked up other names, joking that we clearly had a thing for 3 lettered names. We played with Killian, Liam, Enzo, Elijah, Levi, Kellin and many more, but we both kept coming back to Eli and then I looked up the meaning, “My God.” How fitting.
There was a brief time before your dad even suggested I was pregnant or before the pee-stick tested positive, where I said to your dad, can you imagine I am pregnant? Especially considering that your dad has an infection that results in infertility. I joked that if I were, in fact, pregnant, that it’d would be a miracle of God. The infection spread to both of your dad’s testicles in such a short time, which means that had we waited just a month longer, we may never have gotten the chance to meet you.
Your second name, James meaning “one who follows,” comes from your dad’s grandad. Your great grandad is a man that I truly wish I had the opportunity of meeting – he is responsible for raising the incredible man that your dad is, with such a high sense of morals. He sounds like the sort of person that I’d love to have a cup of coffee with, to hear his interesting stories of histories past. There is no man that your dad respects more, and when he died, he took a little bit of your dad’s heart with him.
I am so grateful to be your mom Eli James. I don’t know what God has planned for you, but I do know that you are destined for great things, my little man. Thank you for making me and your dad parents again, for making Axl a big brother, and for bringing so much love and light into our lives already. I can’t wait to meet you soon.