Dear Aria

Dear Aria,

Now we wait just eight more weeks or so until we meet you. They seem like everlasting weeks when I think of how much I want to scoop you up into my arms. I know you are safest and happiest where you are now, but I’m feeling impatient to look into your eyes, kiss your tiny nose, caress the smooth underside of two little feet that have been nudging me so steadily.

Sometimes, though, I think about the future and already wish that whenever you feel sad, I could tuck you back into a hidden place, safe, warm, and very close to me. Out here in the big world, things can be lonely and scary and confusing. But there is so much love and joy and peace waiting for you, too.

My Moriah

I have always wanted to be a mother. My answer to "What do you want to be when you grow up?" has forever been that I want to nurture my own children, to teach them, to love them, to point them to Christ. I assumed I would get married straight out of high school and become a mother right away, hoping my life story would mimic so many mothers I admire. From the time I was six years old, I practiced mothering on whatever younger sibling or niece or nephew came along every few years. Through all of high school and college, I worked in daycares, in schools, and as a nanny, to get even more experience. I took college courses in early childhood and elementary education, attempting to be as well-prepared as possible to home educate my children.

Ten years after high school graduation, my life story was far behind the timeline I had imagined.