Happy Birthday, Baby

Dear Maddie,

I can't believe I met you six years ago today. It's cliche, but true. At the same time it seems like I've always known you and that you've been around such a short time. How is that possible?

I met you the day you were born. I didn't realize on the drive to the hospital how that would boggle my mind forever after, and feel so significant. But as I looked at you, this tiny, tiny little bedroll in a pink and blue hospital cap, I couldn't wrap my head around the idea that only the day before--even a few hours earlier, actually--you were this bump in your mom's tummy that caused heartburn and backaches, and now you were this miniature, pink, sleeping person, with perfect little person parts. It was amazing. I wondered how well you might already know us, and what your late night and early morning had been like before you came. I still marvel that we've been acquainted since the very beginning of your journey.

I've never seen your parents so exhausted, but so happy. When I pronounced you perfect, they smiled graciously--modestly trying to hide the fact that they were already well aware. I appreciated their pretending I had said something totally new and original. But I could tell they had already had the very same thought at least a million times before I arrived.

When your mom asked if I wanted to hold you, I could not contain myself. I don't know if I actually shouted in the maternity ward full of sleeping babies and exhausted mothers, but it felt like I did. While scrubbing my hands and arms with antibacterial gel, my own mother was giving me one of her looks.

I'm still not sure if that look meant that I should know the offer was merely a polite gesture or that I should have refused because I could cause you harm, but it was clear my mom was annoyed that I hadn't declined.

Now, Maddie, it's very important to do what your mother says. I've learned that 99.95 percent of the time we should believe and obey our mothers. However, in this case, I was completely, 100 percent in the right when I smiled and deliberately ignored the look, and took you in my arms.

You were so light! I was afraid I would fumble you, trying to make sense of how tiny you were. When you nestled in the crook of my arm, sleeping peacefully and looking impossibly like a tiny copy of both of your parents, I fell madly in love for the first time.

Standing in your mom's hospital room and holding you when you were brand new gave me insight I hadn't gained in multitudes of conferences, devotionals, meetings and firesides. Instantly, seeing you wearing baby-sized copies of your mommy's nose and upper lip, I knew that you are what our lives are all about.

Little, innocent baby Maddies and Ians and Jacobs and Nicholases are why we value God, love and family, friends, honesty, integrity, health and strength, hard work, education, and all other forms of purity. We keep our bodies and minds clean and pure, so when the time comes, nothing in our power will interfere with our babies being as perfect and healthy as you were that day. We live the way we know we should, educate ourselves, and take care of our bodies and our reputations, so we have the tools we need to educate you, take care of you, and give you a name you can be proud of.

Holding you, I thought of a line from a movie that has always struck me, and I felt deep inside how true it really was. Of his ancestors, a man said, "Now, I am the only reason they ever existed." I knew that now you are the reason many incredible human beings--some whose names we don't even know--existed.

So, even though you're so grown up now and we've played Polly Pockets and Barbies and dress ups and hairdresser, I realize that you taught me more in your first day than I will ever teach you, and I'm so grateful for what I've learned from you.

I love you so much. I'm very excited to see you next week.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MADDIE-CAKE!!!