his name

We made it to mass on Sunday. We were 15 minutes late to the latest service, Mary Allison had to use the bathroom a record number of times, and the baby was still wearing pajamas, but we made it. Several people noticed our tardy, uncoordinated entrance and welcomed us with waves and knowing smiles as they saw our full arms. The warm greetings spilled over into the narthex after the final benediction and we were able to introduce our son to one of our favorite "pew neighbors," Rose, a kind, middle-aged woman from Africa. We went through the script of questions and answers that one quickly learns with a newborn... "Declan Joel, 10 days ago, 9 pounds and 4 ounces, 21 inches, yes-- he's huge, yada, yada, yada..."

"Ah! Declan Joel," she said to us in her thick accent, "You are blessed. You are so blessed."

And she is right. Our son is finally here and he is full of everything that is good.

My double rainbow pregnancy was filled with doubt. Although I was grateful for each passing day bringing us closer to our son, I struggled to believe that we would actually get to keep him. Even once I reached full term (and then even fuller term), the fear of stillbirth was nearby-- a persistent, evil nag. So I didn't dream of what his face would look like. I didn't try to imagine who he would grow up to be. I couldn't even give him a name-- not yet. What if that name just became another engraved gold charm to add to my necklace?

But my pregnancy was also filled with hope for our son. After spending time with him, we chose to give him the name Declan-- an Irish saint's name that means "full of goodness." Declan's healing birth and the sweet rhythm of his breath on my cheek as he sleeps close, remind me of the fullness of God's goodness and His promise of abundant life. As I stare at my baby's chubby face, I pray that he grows up to be like his namesake, my dad, who is faithful, generous, humble, kind, honest-- and good.

So, my little Declan Joel, welcome to our world. You are overflowing with goodness. 

We are so blessed.

Photography: Kristy Powell