On this day, one year ago, I brought a beautiful little boy into this world. Seven hours and three pushes and Isaaq Yuusuf was born. They laid him on my chest seconds after he arrived. I watched his little arms and legs flail in the air, his warm little body writhing with movement, protesting this cold strange new environment. His nose was flat, head was a little cone-shaped, skin purplish, but he was beautiful.

My heart danced in a new way after he arrived. It had been a leap of faith to deliver him here, in an underdeveloped land. There were those, well-meaning and well-intentioned, who reminded me of all the things that could go wrong if we choose to have him here. Yes, I remember thinking, this little life has been on my mind nearly constantly. Not a single decision do I make without thinking about how it might affect this sweet new one, squirming inside of me.

Yes, I do consider the 'what-ifs', but I don't live by them.

I live by 'I am'.

In His hands do I rest.

I remember looking down, at this sweet babe on my chest and announcing "Aww, it's a little boy!" because I beat everyone else to it. To be honest, I was a little afraid of having a little boy. Little girls I 'get.' Miss Eden was a little girl. I 'get' her. She loves cuddles, pink, and wearing fancy dresses. I am a girl. But this was a little boy. What was the good Lord thinking? Will he like being cuddled and kissed? When do I comfort him? How can I teach him to be strong, when all I am is weak? Question after question tumbled through my head. And then the Father reminded me, "He is mine."

Yes, Father, he is Yours.

Then they got both of us cleaned up, and whisked me away in a wheelchair (finally! I always wanted to ride in a wheelchair) to our recovery room with Papa Clarkson, close behind, carrying our new treasure. Our sweet son.

Most babies are alert for a period of time after birth. Not our Isaaq. I don't think he opened his eyes until a day or two later. And then, when he did open them, it was one at a time, as if his only need was to verify that we were still there. Perhaps opening both was just too overwhelming. I wish I could do that, just close my eyes when life gets too overwhelming...

We went home later that afternoon. Isaaq met his adoring sister and gave her a new pair of flip flops and a neat stool. To this day, she hasn't forgotten these simple gifts. Ask her who gave them to her. Her face lights up. She'll tell you all about the day Baby Isaaq came home from the hospital.

And, so this day, we celebrate. Oh how we celebrate this precious life. Our little boy, with the so-soft cry, and subtle sweet heart. We had a maccaroni and pineapple cake (his favorite) for lunch, and opened presents (well, as much as a one year old opens presents). I made him a little drum out of an oatmeal can, because he loves music so. After a brief demonstration, he carefully patted the drum and then looked up at us as if to say "Like this mom? Do you like it?" Of course. Pat pat pat goes his little hands. And then looks up with a big grin. I praise the Father for weaving the song of this sweet little one into our lives. An extravagent anthem of love.