A Prayer for my Unborn Son – These Frail Hands

On September 28, 2014 by Bethany

Little guy, as you grow inside my belly each day, you hold my thoughts captive. When I wake up (if I sleep at all) I think of you. When I work, I think of you. When I laugh with your father, I think of you.

I think of all the ways I could fail you.

I think of all the ways you’ll change my life.

I think of how parenthood is revealing how selfish of a person I truly am at my core.

I think of the example I should be for you as a Christian, as a woman, as your mother.

I think of what you’ll look like, will you have your dad’s eyes? (oh let’s hope so)

I wonder what your thoughts are right at this very moment, as you are preparing to transition into this world – out of the safety of my womb forever.

And it’s a lot little one. A lot for your momma to carry on these shoulders that had to stop doing Yoga 4 months ago. Let me tell you, they are weak and a little shaky.

And so I pray. In simple breathing prayers of protection. In whispers late at night for the man you’ll become.

In loud, weeping, worry I beg of God to win your heart early in life.

That these frail hands will be enough to hold you and carry you through.

That you will be a man among men, a voice of Christ’s love and Gospel to the world.

For your heart to be just as big as the brain you carry inside that head of yours.

That you’ll be you. 100% uniquely you – not what others want you to be, myself included.

To know the beautiful balance of strength and gentleness your father possesses and mimic it yourself. It’s what drew me to him.

To know being a real man in this world is going to be hard, but you have the greatest examples of men walking alongside you everyday to look to. In our culture, being a “man” is hard. What makes a man? To our culture, it’s based in abilities – How well you hunt or how much you can bench press or how great your jump-shot is or how many beers you can hold. I pray we can show you that being a real man is painted in colors of humility, kindness, patience, forgiveness, understanding and sacrifice.

That your future wife will love and respect you the way I do already. That she will be a partner and a best friend for you, to take on the world with. I pray for her often, that she will know how much I love her already.

I pray for our world to heal it’s gaping, horrific wounds. I pray maybe you’ll be an agent of change and healing one day for it.

That you will never doubt my love. Even when I make mistakes and want things to be perfect when they won’t be, you’ll see my heart.

That we won’t ever drift apart. My heart tears from its bearings in my chest when I think of that.

Some day, that you’ll understand that your life is not normal. Not everyone on Earth lives with the securities you live with. And while I worry and stress over providing you with those securities, that I never let you take them for granted. That you will live your life with perspective.

That when I draw hard lines in your life for discipline – that you’ll understand it’s my love that motivates me. That I desire to see you grow.

That you’ll look at your peers with a lens of forgiveness as you grow. That you won’t look to them for validation in who you are.

That the only validation you’ll ever need comes from Christ.

That He will remain your identity-giver. Not I, not your father, not your peers or family. Him.

That your hands will never come to harm another human being. No matter what people say, violence isn’t the answer.

The world, in its beautiful entirety, would draw upon that deep need and craving for exploration and adventure within you.

That you would use that adventure to further the Kingdom of God.

That your feet will walk firmly on the path God has prepared for you. That you’ll think of God’s will for your life as you grow and make decisions.

That you’ll stand up for that path, even when I doubt you and I think I know what’s best.

That you’ll be a good listener – maybe I know a thing or two about jump-shots and fashion.

That I won’t make you the center of my world. I know you don’t need that pressure.

For our nation, you’ll fight for the continued rights and equality for all. That you will value life. That you will not forget the mistakes of your ancestors, the roots and reasons for battles fought and you’ll remember our past, so the future can be better.

That your voice will be an instrument of edification. That you can hold your tongue (unlike me) and never fear of speaking out for the truth.

For your arms to be open to the marginalized, the outcast, the loner at school.

That God will be the protector and keeper of your heart and faith.

That your heart will be broken for things that are unjust.

That I won’t try wrap you in a safety-bubble and keep you from having your heart broken. That I won’t be afraid to let you experience those hard moments. Some of the most important moments of growth for me were when I was completely broken, and Christ saw me through.

That when you fail and make mistakes, you’ll know the next step is up to you. Don’t be afraid to admit when you’re wrong and get back up again, stronger and better for it.

And for you to grow in the knowledge everyday that a compassionate soul, a willingness to act and foundation in Christ’s love is enough to change the world. It doesn’t take much else.

Edison, you’ll see when you grow older and read this, we call you a world changer. You might think.. “why? that’s a lot of pressure for a little baby, mom…”

What I want you to know is this: you changed the world 9 months ago, when you were conceived and Christ allowed you to start our family of 3. You’ve changed your father’s life already. You’ve change my life already.

You’ve taught us the importance of being solid in our communication, to ensure we are showing love the way the other receives it. You’ve brought us closer, when you kicked your dad in the face as he talked to you the other night and we laughed until I thought I’d pee my pants. When I was melting into a ball of stress and worry last week, you hiccuped until I stopped crying. And when every time I sing, you begin dancing in my belly – without fail.

You are in our lives – and that is enough to change the world.

As you live and laugh and grow and sneeze and poop and cry and get bloody knees and stained jeans, you’ll be changing the world.

Think of it as a legacy we long for you to remember. It’s written in your room and all around you everyday.