An open letter to Lucas, who refuses to be born

(originally posted 2/25/2009)
Dear Lucas,

I understand your hesitation to be born. I do.

Right now you’re warm and cozy, wrapped tightly in the tummy of someone who loves you. And life out of the womb ain’t all peaches and …um…amniotic fluid. I get that.

But in case the reason for your trepidation is that you feel uninformed about what this one-way ticket into the world entails, allow me this moment to give it to you straight:

Hold onto your Pampers kid, it’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

Not so much the being born. Your momma is going do a lot of the work for you on that one. And yeah, that part will be a little shocking –you go from being all comfy and floaty and suddenly---WHOOSH—out you come into the bright, nosey world. And right away people will make you cry.

Unknown and daunting figures clothed in gowns and gloves will poke, prod and suction you-- but don’t worry--pretty soon you’ll be in arms that will seem familiar even in their newness.

And I gotta tell you kiddo, you are born with some amazing arms waiting to hold you. I mean, you won the genetic jack-pot with your parents. In fact, think so highly of your mom and dad that I picked them to step in for your uncle Andy and me raising our own daughter if something were to happen.

Heh. “If something were to happen.” That’s called a euphemism. People use them in the big, bright world to dance around what they really need to say. But here’s the truth of it; life is short. Heck of a thing to tell someone just starting it, eh? But I tell you that not to scare you, but rather because it’s the brevity of the situation that makes it all the more magical.

And, because I’m keeping it honest, life’s not always easy. There will be pain—from the kind that can be cured with a band-aid and a kiss to the type that lingers neatly in your memories, hurting you anew every so often, just to remind you it’s still there.

If that weren’t enough, there will be loss and loneliness, sickness and grief. There will be Richard Simmons and his Sweatin’ to the Oldies. There will be Brussels Sprouts and Clamato juice.

Worse still, there’s a good chance there will be women. And one will probably hurt you in a way that will make you wish to God a band-aid could fix it.

There will be people who wear too much perfume and cars that break down at terribly inconvenient moments. There will be bad sitcoms and boy bands that make you wonder what happened to all the good music. There will be bills and trips to the dentist. You will often misplace things, and that’s going to suck (trust me). There will be everything that is reported on the nightly news. And probably—although I hope not—there will still be the occasional bad people with bombs and germs and planes and guns. You will see animals and children suffer and wonder “why?” because you have amazing parents who will teach you to wonder at such injustice.

There will be snow that makes an awful “Squeeeeeerk” sound when you step on it.

So yeah, there will be bad things.

But.

But the good shines through.

For starters, there’s love. Love from your parents, love from your family, love from friends who don’t even know you yet but whom will one day wonder how they ever could have navigated through life without you. Love from us, who would give anything to keep you safe from all of those bad things mentioned above. Love for someone you would give anything to keep safe from those same bad things.

And there’s macaroni and cheese. Get this—it comes in a box, and the cheese is this nuclear- looking orange powder, but it’s so good. And it’s like, 15 cents a box. Awesome.

And animals. I can’t wait for you to meet them. You have these two cats at your house that are enormously entertaining. They asked me to tell you not to poke their eyes or pull their tails, and said if you want to slip them some food here and there that would be cool.

There’s swimming, jumping, dancing and long naps on cold days under big blankets. There’s ice cream, baseball, barbeques and cartoons. Christmas presents, birthday cake, pirates, bonfires, trick-or-treat, dinosaurs, waffles, balloons, sledding, picnics and peanut butter pie. Fireflies, field trips, football and hamburgers. Cookies and music so good you have to sing at the top of your lungs, even if you look stupid and sound worse.

And you’re a boy, so um… stuff that blows up or looks weird or is wrapped in bacon and smothered in cheese.

And so, so, so much more Lucas.

This world, for all it’s faults and flaws, is amazing. But it’s also lacking someone for whom it’s been waiting since the dawn of creation and throughout its eons of history: you.

So take a moment, enjoy the solitude of your warm little womb-home, and come on out.

We’ve been waiting for you to happen.

Your God Momma,
Auntie Laurel