Letter #11

Dear Isaiah,

Yesterday I took a walk outside on an unexpected 60 degree day. My shoes came off and I dug my feet into the lush, autumn green. A tiny ladybug had landed on my knee and I played with it for about 10 minutes, flipping the tips of grass onto its pathway so it changed directions.

I wondered how in the world a God could exist that thought to create an insect with a red shell and black polka dots on its back. I wondered how in the world a God could exist that could create you inside of me.

You, me, and the ladybug hung out for a while before I went back to my office to finish the rest of the work day. But the fresh air and colors of yesterday stayed with me.

Today, I began fearing if I might be sick. A tickle in my throat, dry cough, slightly warm forehead...I began talking to myself, convincing myself that I was fine, you were fine. WE are fine.

I walked into my office and saw a storm of lady bugs on my ceiling, crawling on the window, more flying around on my screen, trying to find a way in. No where else in the building was there a concentration of ladybugs. I frowned, wondering why I would be so unfortunate to inherit all these pesky things. The wonder of yesterday was gone.

A co-worker walked in and gasped, "Look at your ladybugs! They are a sign of good luck!"

I googled it "symbolism of a ladybug," and, sure enough, it means good luck and if one lands on you, it's a sing of impending good fortune. It also means I/we are being protected.

Given my worry and anxiety that I am sick because of this tickle at the base of my throat, a small sign, smaller than a thumbnail, gives me some irrational comfort that you/we are going to be just fine.

Someone recently shared with me, after listening to my worries about becoming a mother, "It's already begun. I can hear it. You want so much to keep this brand new life as pure as possible for as long as possible."

My eyes filled and I nodded.

She laughed compassionately, "We don't have a prayer! Even their first breath is already tainted."

I smiled sadly, knowing it was true, but intuitively feeling like this impossible effort to keep you pure was still attainable.

Her eyes leveled mine, "But we do the best we can. Always. That's what we do."

I am doing the best I can. I hope that is enough for you/us.

Actually, maybe it's more than enough for you and it's ME who is expecting more.

Love Always,
Mama