Consider this your first official letter… a state of the family, if you will. You’ve already logged some serious events in your short month of life and I wanted to get them down before I lose them in the fog that is coping with a newborn.
We all fight our own special dragons in this family, and you are no exception. Your battle started at 22 weeks in-utero when Kelly found that your right foot was slightly clubbed. Now, you have your very first cast. You’ll receive a new cast every week for a month and THEN you’ll get to wear a special snowboard at night until you’re 4. I know, right? Awesome. Score one for the wild and wacky. Welcome to the family.
Bud, you’re a tad high maintenance. You absolutely refuse to fall asleep on your own. Your sister was not a cuddler, so this is all new to me. I will give you another month or so of extreme handling and then… well, then you gotta make your own sleep. You also have some colic issues which lead to periodic inconsolable screaming. We are all impressed with your lungs and perseverance. You’re very cute, though, which has helped you win over family and friends despite your decibels.
I have so many prayers for you, Little Man… so many dreams. I have little experience with boys. Boys, well… boys are a mystery to me. Your dad will teach you what it is to be a gentleman, a rebel, and a champion. He will also teach you to spit and whistle, two things I cannot do. Your sister is dying for you to be a bit bigger so she can swing with you and run with you and play hard with you. Get ready. You’re in for a world of adventure once she gets ahold of you. I can only protect you for so long.
As your mom, I hope you’ll hold doors open for people… both girls and boys, old and young. And, I hope you’ll like to read. I hope you’ll sing in church… up front or in the chairs- doesn’t matter. And, I hope one day you tell me you love Jesus with all your heart. I hope you’ll embrace being a cowboy and be a big help on the farm. I hope the quiet out here brings you the same kind of peace it brings the rest of us. I hope you’ll be respectful of every one you meet, and I hope you’ll speak up for those who have lost their voice.
You are loved by so many… and we are all just getting to know you. Sweet boy… you were expected, you were prayed for, and you are very welcome in this house.
Now, please go to sleep.
If you have any advice or prayers for Gus, by all means leave them in the comments. We’d love it.