180 days.
That’s how long I have held you in my arms. How many days I have studied your eyes, which are somewhere between brown, like mine, and green, like your dads. For 6 months I have nursed you to sleep, wiped up copious amounts of spit up, and swayed as we listen to Out of Hiding on repeat.
Little did I know a year ago what it would feel like to love another son. I remember the moment we found out you were going to be a boy, standing there in the living room with blue confetti falling around us like rain.
My first prayer was Lord, you’re going to have to name him because I’m all out.
And God, who I am learning is never late and never early, gave me a name for him the moment I first laid eyes on his face.
John, meaning God is gracious. Which just so happens to be a word that the Lord put on my heart the year I found out I was pregnant with him.
And Carson, which means Christian. To be honest, until I was writing this I thought it only meant son of marsh dwellers. (which it also does) And since we don’t dwell in a marsh, I figured it was given to me simply because He knows my heart and that I love the name.
Now reading that it means Christian, I am happy to claim that for his life. It is my greatest hope that all of my children know the boundless love of Father God. It’s hard to comprehend a love greater than what I feel for these boys. But I know for certain that that’s how God feels about us.
I want to pull out all the stops for him, my John Carson. I want to give him the moon. The graciousness of God has manifested in my life and it has left me with you in my arms.
With every new baby my appreciation for innocence grows. It is a profound mystery, the tenderness of a child.
Something about this one feels like the end of the road for my baby bearing years. I strive to savor it and doubt there will ever be another event in my life that alters me the way motherhood has.
Happy 6 months my darling boy.
I can’t wait to know you all the days of my life.