It’s a pretty incredible blessing to get to document God’s answers to prayers. Little Joshua is one of those—a long-awaited child who arrived 17 years after his mom and dad tied the knot. I knew he was a delightful surprise, so I asked Bethany for his story. She sent me the sweetest letter she wrote to him when she was expecting. Bethany is a gifted writer, so I couldn’t cut it down. Here’s her beautiful letter and some photos to go with.
You are the surprise of my life.
Dad and I got married in 2003 when I was only 19 years old. We didn’t know we wanted to be parents. The world is rough, you see. Too rough for a new and sweet life. Too rough even for us… we wanted to spare a new baby the harshness of it.
For years we felt this way, until one day a pastor came to our church to preach a special message. He said he and his wife had the two kids they’d planned on, and then did what needed doing to make sure they didn’t have any more. And the Lord spoke to them, and said, “Who is in charge of your steps? Your days? Now, who is in charge of your family?” and the guilt fell on them – they had told God what to do with their family, stood in His way, and made their own path. He preached on letting God be the Lord of your family, the decisions you make for yourselves and your kids, and not stealing His lordship away.
I felt then like a spotlight was shone on me. Like everyone was looking at me. I knew God was telling me not to stand in His way when it came to designing my future. My heart was changed. What I didn’t know is that your dad felt the same way, at the same time, for the same reason.
A few more years passed before we got our first surprise – a baby was coming! No, it wasn’t you yet. It was late in 2011 and we had waited for what felt like such a long time – long enough to wonder why God would change our hearts so suddenly and so clearly, just to have nothing come of it. But 2 days before Christmas when we went to see this baby for the first time, it wasn’t there. Something had gone wrong, and the doctors couldn’t find a heartbeat.
We went through Christmas with heavy, sad hearts. Sang worship songs through tears. It was physically and emotionally so much, so very much harder than I ever expected. It leaves a hole in your heart to lose someone, even if they’re no bigger than a jelly bean.
I remember telling your dad I wasn’t scared to try again. At first that was true – the pain of loss when fresh, though incredibly painful, doesn’t carry the kind of hopelessness that can come in the years following. You’d think pain would fade and grow stale… in some ways it does, and in other ways it seems to burrow in and make a home in your heart. It shadows everything just around the edges – holidays, time with friends, making plans, making a home. It’s all just a little bit hollow.
Funny thing is, if enough years pass you begin to make a weird peace with it. Not a good, settling peace. A different kind. Maybe… the give-up kind. Where you stop wondering why God changed your heart all those years ago, and you just accept life as it is to some extent. You don’t just mourn the loss of the specific life, but it turns to mourning and grieving what you thought would be and all that goes with it. The tears get further apart, and the breaths of hope do, too.
Part of me eventually did that – part of me gave up. After so many years, when Gramma would hint in conversation about there being a someday baby, I’d shrug it off and feel sorry for myself, a little for her, too, and try not to think about it. When I’d get asked to another baby shower, I simply started to say no after too many terrible ones. I even think it was long enough that people stopped looking at me funny when I held other people’s babies – they didn’t have the “when’s your turn” face anymore. I was a confirmed auntie – with lots of practice! Think of all your cousins – Bobby was born when I was only 9 years old. I’d been Auntie Beth for so much of my life, the echoes of “someday” started to grow very quiet.
But, then… I don’t know how to describe the surprise I felt when that bright blue line appeared. Bright! Not faded, not uncertain, not check again tomorrow… out of the clear blue sky, with no warning or wondering. I don’t know why I checked! I don’t know why I had a test to check with. But I did, and there it was, plain as day. Like a note from the future – “I’m coming!”
I didn’t get to tell Dad right away – we had a busy week that had us in different places a lot – so it felt like I had you all to myself for a couple days. Then we planned a Saturday trip to our favorite burger place, and I decided a walk on the beach after would be a great time for this surprising news! It was a hilarious failure of a plan – the whole city around Hodad’s was jammed up with cars and people… we couldn’t have eaten there if we’d been the most determined burger fans in the universe. So, we went to our favorite ramen place. Ok, I thought. This is fine. We love this place. It’s special. But it was pretty busy, too, and so loud. It felt so ordinary. So, through dinner it was still just you and me in on the secret.
After, I suggested we try and get back to the beach. Your dad didn’t understand why it was so important, but he kindly indulged me. We went back, decided to take a walk on the pier which was packed with people – entire families camped out, night fishing. I’ve never seen anything like it! I didn’t know people did that – not with all their kids and grandparents! Coolers and tents, glow sticks on fishing lines, lawn chairs and buckets of tiny fish. The seagulls. The smell. The clamor. Again… it didn’t feel like the kind of environment for such a special surprise, so I kept waiting.
Back on the beach, we stood and watched the black surf roll in and out. I finally dove into it – I don’t remember how I finally started it, but eventually I said, “Well, there’s going to be a Little.” I don’t think he could have expected that statement any less. He made the funniest face, he asked if I was kidding. There was a “really?!” and laughing and hugging. He laughed when he finally understood why being somewhere special had been so important all day.
The first weeks were hard – I had a couple scary moments I thought I’d lose you. I wish delight had been what ruled those weeks, but I prayed through a lot of fear. After loss and living without… it felt like such a fragile hope to have! So tentative and out of my control. Making it to my first appointment felt like it took years. Family and friends prayed you and me and Dad through it. And we made it! At 8 weeks we got to see your little shadow, hear your strong, steady little heart (which was, at the time, the size of a sesame seed), and hear Nurse Kristin tell us you looked perfect and healthy. She smiled without worry and without hesitation. We finally did, too. When your dad saw you on the screen, he said, “it’s REAL!” and I knew exactly how he felt! Like it wasn’t just a dream or a joke. There you were! I giggled through tears.
The fear and worry faded very slowly. It’s hard to relax when you just can’t know, can’t be ready, and can’t control anything. I had to do my best to be healthy, and let God take care of you in there. In my belly, but completely out of my hands. And now you are kicking and rolling most of the time! I know you better every day. And I’m counting the days til I see you.
After Joshua was born, Bethany posted on Facebook:
When I look into this darling face, all the me’s from all the time before now sigh in hopeful disbelief. The people I have been in years past don’t know how to process how beautiful and perfect he is. All they know is wondering, and maybe, and someday. His very being seems impossible. And yet. I feel his breath. I smell his hair. I kiss his cheeks. And I can’t stop staring, and trying to believe he’s real.
So when I asked Bethany to choose favorites from her gallery, she chose . . . SIXTY. Plus the black and white copies. Because when you don’t have something for a very, very long time, and then you have it, you’re grateful. How can we all not celebrate along with this sweet couple who longed for a child for so very long?
Oh and then we did Christmas pictures. Would it be cheesy to point out that Bethany and Kevin’s story is just a little bit like another story of a long-awaited Child? Of “gloomy clouds of night dispersed” and “dark shadows put to flight?”
Rejoicing with this little family.
