My dearest daughter, Blythe:
Last year I gazed lovingly and longingly down at my expanding stomach, whispering "I love you". At 26 weeks pregnant, we celebrated Christmas and I knew it would still be awhile until I held you in my arms.
I trimmed our tree with little reminders of your presence. I wondered and dreamed about the next year, when I would know what your nose looked like, would know how your lips parted into a smile, and would know the sweet smell of your face.
I read Mary's song, as she waited and prayed for her child, who would be Christ our Lord. She was scared too, just like I was last year. Just like me she wondered if she was really capable.
I waited with baited breath for the moment I would hold you for the first time.
And then you came so quickly I could barely catch that same breath as I looked into your deep brown eyes.
And now I know you.
You are my joy. You are my sweet Blythe Kathleen.
Now we sit under the tree and point at the lights and the ornaments.
Now you clap and laugh, snuggle and scoot around.
Now I know what my heart was aching for last year at Christmas.
I can't wait for more Christmases with you; Christmases when you know the excitement; Christmases when you know the meaning of a Savior.
But this year I will be thankful that I get to hold you in my arms.
I will be thankful that I get to watch you move around instead of just kick inside of me.
I will be thankful that your dad gets to share in knowing you.
And I will be thankful, mostly, that the Lord knew it was YOU all along.
I will be thankful for the gift of you, Blythe.