The Little Sweetness in the Family: A Letter to You, My Daughter
Self Portrait with Julie by Élisabeth Vigée Le Brun (oil on wood, 1789)
A letter to my daughter:
We call you manzanita. Spanish for little apple. You are my apple blossom. My mother yesterday said that the little apple is low on the tree and likewise, when she’s ripe and ready, she’ll drop. A metaphor of how we’re looking these days. You are getting ready, inching your way lower and lower to where God directs your every move. How beautiful our Lord is, to grow life in my womb in such a way, where I carry you through as difficult as its been these last few months.
Before I formed thee in the belly I knew thee; and before thou camest forth out of the womb I sanctified thee… (Jeremiah 1:5)
Your Papi was so excited to hear you were a girl. His legs began to tremble with fear and anxiety because for once there would be a little girl in the family. He has no sisters so you are that little sweetness in the family that is much anticipated. He is so looking forward to seeing your face. He’s praying for so many things for you and is ready to meet you. He wants to hold you in his arms as you wear your little footsie sleeping jammies and doze off in the warmth of his chest. He is scared for the big things that he knows he will fail at as a father, but he wants you to know that he loves you even now before anything. He hopes you understand how much he’s doing his best to provide all the needs of this growing family, by the strength of God. He loves you sweet blossom, and is going to great lengths to make sure you are protected and provided for and that you feel safe and secure under his leadership.
You have two brothers that anxiously wait for your arrival. They ask every day how you are. One brother is seven years old. He was born at 39 weeks, five pounds, fifteen ounces. A small little guy, with a heart of gold for sure. I know you’ll think he’s wonderful as he is so protective of others. He is sentimental and so precious to all our family. I am so glad he was chosen to lead the arrows me and your daddy are carrying in our quiver.
Your other brother is three years old. He was born at 37 weeks, your current age. He came in at seven pounds exactly. He feels like a big boy now all because he can use the potty all by himself and doesn’t use pull-ups anymore for bedtime. He’s a sweet soul, very comical, very interested in making us happy. Always asks for approval for the things he does. He plays and sings and creates stories with his action figures. He makes walls with his blocks and puts his shoes on his stuffed pet dog, Dos. He loves Dos and carries him everywhere we go. Dos was given to him by his brother and his brother has a stuffed pet dog of his own named Cometa. You will have one of your own too, someday…
You are 37 weeks in the womb now and I am 37 years old walking this earth.
It seems like you have shown me what a normal pregnancy is because I have had no adverse reactions to you that I experienced with your brothers. Your older brother had low fluid levels that I needed to birth him as soon as the ultrasound technician discovered this was so. With your youngest brother, I experienced preeclampsia. This condition began at 35 weeks and took me to the hospital every other day for monitoring of blood and echo. By grace of God I was able to carry him through to full term at 37 weeks.
With you, I am terribly swollen and cannot rest at night (all normal symptoms of this stage—and my age along with it). I was an insomniac for two nights in a row. I’ve lost count of how many times I emptied my bladder at night. Getting in and out of bed is a challenge. Your brothers are helpful… they see me struggle with some movement and will give me their little hands to hold me up. I had a few scares lately where I lose my balance. No falls though. In the daytime, I don’t go out much at all because the discomfort on my feet is unbearable at times. I do take walks when I possibly can and make visits to my mother and auntie. Driving around town scares me now, because I don’t know if you’ll decide to venture out at any given moment. More than anything, I am terrified of how reckless people drive out there and notice the danger is more apparent.
In a few weeks at the most, you will be visible to our eyes. Your grandparents are anxious to see who you will look like, and most of all, they want to know what you will be named. Your Papi and I decided on a name several months ago after prayer and confirmation, but because we want you to be the first to hear us call you by your name, we will wait until you are nestled in our arms to announce it to anyone. You are a blessing to us and the fact that the Lord had you planned for years before I ever knew I was to be your mother, brings me such joy and satisfaction.
We wonder what personality you will have. We know God has created you in a unique way, and we wonder if you will be outdoorsy like your dad and brothers, or will you be demure and serious. Will you have the gift of mercy, like your younger brother, or will you have the gift of teaching like your dad and older brother? Will you be frank in your thoughts and opinions, or will you keep things to yourself? Will you have mercy, will you be interested in the lives of others with care and compassion? Will you play an instrument, or will you sing praises to our God? Will you be studious, will it take you much effort to learn something? Will you write poetry or will you like to create things with your hands? Will you live for the Lord, or for yourself?
I will praise thee; for I am fearfully and wonderfully made: marvellous are thy works; and that my soul knoweth right well. (Psalm 139:14)
What I do know is that your Papi, your brothers and I love you already and I am so glad God is giving you to us when He is. Your Papi and I see you as the wonderful result of God’s love towards us. Regardless of the ailments and the pain I feel as I carry you through the final days, you are so worth it and by grace of God, I will be able to live to see you very soon for the first time and then see you grow for years to come.
Love, Mami ❧
Originally published on 8-27-2012
❧ AT THE TABLE SOCRATICS ❧
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Defining the Core Idea: What special Spanish nickname does the mother use for her unborn daughter in the letter, and what metaphor did the grandmother (Abuela) use to describe how close the baby is to being born?
Identifying the Contrast: How does the mother describe the physical difficulties of her earlier pregnancies with her two sons compared to the normal symptoms she experiences with her daughter?
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Analyzing the Argument: How does the father’s reaction to having his first daughter demonstrate both a humble sense of his own limitations and a deep commitment to family leadership?
Finding the Cause: What leads the parents to keep their baby daughter's chosen name a secret until she is born and nestled in their arms?
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Evaluating the Thesis: Grounded in Jeremiah 1:5 and Psalm 139:14, how does this letter counter modern utilitarian views of unborn life by affirming divine intentionality, personhood, and inherent dignity?
Synthesizing & Applying: As the mother contemplates her daughter's future spiritual gifts, personality, and choices, how can parents balance praying for a child's unique individuality while actively raising them to live for God rather than self?