It Was You I Wanted

A few weeks ago I drove home from church deep in memories of the days, weeks, months we waited until we had our first child.  A conversation I had that morning sparked the memories and as we neared home, the sounds of four lively little ones in the background, I thought, I didn't even know what I wanted back then.  I had this deep longing for something.  But I didn't even know what it was.

That afternoon, after I kissed the fourth forehead and gave the fourth love and prayed the fourth time for a good rest time, I went to clean up the kitchen.  With my hands in soapy water, I heard the sounds of our firstborn rocking in his chair, singing, reading a book, entertaining himself until the clock said 3.

And then I realized.

I didn't know what I wanted because I didn't know you yet.

And it was you I wanted.

It was you, Silas, you who came first.

You, who now loves Legos and is reading and teaches us all the new songs you learn at school.  You who snuggles with your Mama and wants Daddy to stay home every single day.  You who is the biggest and it's not always easy to be the biggest when there are so many littles.

It was you I wanted.

It was you, Lieren and Simeon, you who came two at a time.

You, sweet girl who is the most feminine little thing ever created.  You who is swaddling babies and cradling anything tiny and making a family out of whatever toys halfway seem to go together.  You who loves puzzles and being silly and wants to be held.

It was you I wanted.

You, passionate boy who is climbing over everything and crying when we have to come inside because you just want it to be spring already.  You whose energy is boundless but sits at the counter creating a world out of a miniature set of cars for minutes longer than I would expect.

It was you I wanted.

And it was you, Blaise, you who came before we thought we were ready.

You, who is crawling and standing and so close to a step but just not quite ready.  You who is clapping and waving and last night leaned over simply to hug Daddy before bed.  You whose delight reminds me that there is joy in the sound of a drum, in a curtain for peek-a-boo, in the footsteps of a sibling.

It was you I wanted.