Letters to Noah

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Dear Noah

September 20, 2011.  That’s the date that you will make your presence fully known into this world.   The date that I’ll get to hold you.  And see you.  I can’t wait.

It takes some time for it to all become real to me.  Your mom has to deal with you 24 hours a day.  Growing, stretching, kicking.  (Side note: Be nice to her. Carrying you around for 9 months can’t be awesome.  And it’s hot. Really hot.  Seriously, be nice.)  But me?  I see you through a monitor at random doctor visits.  I see Mom’s stomach go crazy as you perfect your wrestling moves inside of her.  But that’s it.  To me, you are more of an idea.

And I love the idea of you.  We finished getting your room ready this weekend.  I think you’ll love it.  I can picture rocking you to sleep in the chair.  Watching you, peacefully asleep in your crib.  You are right across the hall from Gabe, your big brother.  He’s going to be a great protector and friend for you (though right now he still refuses to acknowledge your existence).

I think about you a lot.  About what you’ll look like.  What your personality will be like.  I only have your brother to compare you to, but I know you’ll be different.  I hope that’s especially true in your sleep patterns.

It’s a weird time for our family.  I started a company last fall and have been trying to get that off the ground.  I’m also in the process of starting another company. Yes, your Mom is the most patient woman on the planet.  It’s been a stressful year for us, to say the least.  But with you comes hope.  Expectation.  Joy.  New.

You symbolize so much of what we are experiencing right now.  Maybe most of all you resemble the meaning of your name: Peaceful.  While nobody would describe having two boys as peaceful, we are at peace in knowing that God brings good things to His people.  And he’s brought you to us.

He’s ushering in a new season.  It begins with you.

I love you son. I can’t wait to meet you.

Daddy