It is the eve of Thanksgiving, and over the past six days I have whispered the words “thank you” a million times to my Lord. Thank you for this miracle. Thank you for this new life. Thank you for this precious daughter. Thank you entrusting us with her life.
It’s hard to believe that tomorrow she will be one week old. While the five of us watch the parade in our pajamas and eat turkey and sweet potato casserole and Kitty’s recipe for broccoli cheese casserole, I will try and hold back the tears. Tears of immense gratitude for these blessings I call family.
Last Thursday morning, after maybe three hours of sleep we drove to the hospital in the dark of night. We got checked in and prepped, and at 7:45 am we heard “It’s a girl!” for the third time. It was just as sweet and exhilarating as the first two times. Matt and I both started crying, and my doctor asked what her name was. “Georgia Ray,” we both said. Georgia comes from a book I was reading this summer while we were at the beach. The author has a daughter named Georgia, and I mentioned it to Matt. We both loved it, and we especially loved the nickname Peach. Ray was the middle name of Matt’s paternal grandfather, and it means “strong protector.” I thought that was perfect since God has certainly been this little girl’s Strong Protector from the moment He created her.
When they handed Georgia to Matt, she immediately fell asleep. Sweet girl has her daddy’s laid back, easy-going personality so far. The anesthesiologist asked if he could hold her, and after a minute he held her up to my face. As soon as I started saying, “I love you, Georgia Ray” she popped open her eyes and stared right into mine. And the tears flowed faster.
Right now we are living in the newborn haze–wearing our pajamas all day long, eating snickerdoodles by the dozen, watching lots of Thanksgiving specials on Food Network, and taking turns snuggling our little Peach.
Thank you doesn’t seem like enough.