Dear Ronen,
You're here.
I know everyone is born and everyone has a mother and the miracle of life is common. The very definition of common.
But you're here.
Finally.
You.
I bet your Mom didn't realize how precious pronouns were until they laid you yowling on her chest and she let her voice curl around those common words as she felt you for the first time on this side, the out side.
Him.
"I love him."
He.
"He's perfect."
I'm in awe of it. I'm in awe of you.
We've been expecting you for so long. Your Mama dragged you around to so many doctors' appointments. They changed her due date, they said she had a thyroid condition and you might be small or developmentally delayed. They worried. Later, they said you were too big, that you couldn't be born without a scalpel. They worried some more. They said a lot of things.
But we waited patiently for you, bided our time. We watched your Mom grow and stretch uncomfortably. She waddled and smiled that long-suffering smile all mothers share. She never wained in her excited anticipation or her peaceful assurance that you'd be perfect, you'd be just fine.
She was right. And here you are. Perfect. Wriggling. Scrubbed pink. 10 fingers. 10 toes.
You made your Dad a dad. That's no small thing. Your Mom was always a mom, since she was little. It's what she was made for. Any child who has spent time near her is her child, they know her remarkable love, her love that makes all things and people shine. She makes things beautiful.
Your Dad had oats to sow and dragons to slay. Their love story, your origin story, is that your Mom made your Dad shine and centered him. Secured him to Jesus. That's why he's so sold out for her, so bonded to her, loves her so much. He's strong, your dad. Sturdy, resilient, quiet. Creative. He's slain dragons. He loves you ruggedly. He will take care of you no matter the cost or distance. He will be there. He's faithful.
You've got a lot of family. An overwhelming amount of love will assault you from both your mom and dad's sides, compete for you a little bit. I won't get into it all, there's a ton of us, Aunts, Uncles, cousins. There's time to know us. We're loud and bossy, sometimes we can be bull-headed and insular. We build stuff. (I'm your favorite Aunt, don't listen to Aunt Anna or Aunt Evie). And however fabulously Aunt Boo or your Grandma Marla spoil you, you mind your mother, okay? Always dance with the one you came with, Little Man.
That's some of the good news. There's some bad news too.
The world's broken. People steal, kill, and destroy. There's suffering here. Sometimes, people aren't even evil; sometimes they're just selfish and short-sighted, which might be worse. Pain and love have to go together. Jesus said so, can't have one without the other. But you get to be part of the mending, part of The Very Good News. We'll teach you how to love, how to forgive, how to grow. You'll be light in this world, Little One. You'll be salt.
You're theirs, you're mine, you're ours, you're His.
Welcome to the world, Ronen.
We're so glad you came. We can't wait to know you.
Love,
Aunt Kate
