Dear Milo...

You don't even know what's coming. Right now, all you know is quiet contentment- the warmth and darkness of your now overly cramped living quarters and the gentle swooshing of your Momma's heartbeat. But in just a few hours, you're going to be pulled, kicking and screaming (quite literally) into something cold and foreign, with big, bright lights and strange faces and voices and it will all be very overwhelming for you. I want to go ahead and tell you right now that everything will be okay. You might be afraid for a few minutes, but the fear will pass. It always does, sooner or later. Some of those new faces will bundle you up and make you warm and then one of them will carry you over to someone whose voice you'll recognize. You've heard him talk and laugh and sing and play with your sister. His hands will wrap themselves around your tiny, shriveled fingers and it's these hands that will one day teach you how to hold a baseball and throw a splitter, and how to play an E diminished on the guitar. But these hands will also show you so much more than that- like how to embrace both the beautiful and painful things in life...how to loosen your grip on those things you will want to control and how to hold on tightly to the things that are worth holding on to. This is your Daddy.

He will teach you to live in the moment. And it won't take much time around him for you to come to understand what compassion is- what it looks, feels and tastes like. He will show you that it's okay to let your heart break for other people and that being vulnerable with others has the ability to make you come alive. He loves you more than you'll ever be able to comprehend. I am so excited for you to meet him. And I can say with all of the confidence in the world that he is, and always will be, your biggest fan.

Your Momma has been eagerly awaiting this day too. To say that this has been a bumpy ride for both of us is an understatement. It's been an emotional and anxious 10 months and I'm sure you've been able to sense that. I wish I could've changed so much of that for both of our sakes- especially yours- but the truth behind the scary feelings is that they cause us to grow and change and become stronger people. As you grow up, you will be afraid and have your heart broken and feel pain and your Momma will have to fight a very real and overwhelming urge to want to hold you and protect you from those things (you know, until you're at least 79 years old or so). But there's a journey ahead for both of us, and it's called letting go. The time that you've spent in my belly is the only time I know I'll ever truly be able to hold and protect you as much as I possibly can. I'm fully aware that once the doctor puts you in my arms, I've already begun to let you go. I've already begun to give up control. I've already begun to pray harder than I've ever prayed in my entire life. I did the same with your sister. And I'm still learning to give up that control, still letting go and pulling close, still praying.

Being Mommy to you and your sister is the best thing I will ever do. I can't wait to know who you are. To touch you and know that you're real- that you're not some very active figment of my imagination for the last 10 months. To hold your precious hands and to kiss each tiny finger and toe and to be thankful that you're mine. To be grateful I've been given the privilege of being your mommy. I can't wait to see that first crooked little smile- the one that I'll see in your eyes before it ever makes it's way to your mouth. And then to see you recognize your big sister and to watch her love you in the way that only she'll know how. (For the record, she is going to beat you up and boss you around from time to time. And there will be consequences for her actions, of course. But don't say I never warned you. ;- ) ).

My sweet baby boy: you are loved. You have been hoped for, wanted, dreamt about, prayed over, cried for, celebrated- long before I ever felt you move inside me for the first time, and even more so since then. I love you- more than I did yesterday, but not nearly as much as I will in a few hours.

I'll see you soon. :)

Love,

Mommy