God Gave Me You - Your Birth Story

Tuesday morning when I woke up, I knew it was your birthday. We had scheduled it.

I turned on some music on CMT while we got ready to go to the hospital.

Blake Shelton's version of "God Gave Me You" was playing.

I stood in the bedroom staring at the tv for a minute, and then forced myself to walk away.

I was already a little emotional.

I knew Tuesday, March 20, was going to be a special day.

I hugged your daddy right before we walked out the door and we looked around the house, knowing that when we came back, it wasn't going to be the same. You, who was still my belly at the time, were going to be in your car seat when we walked back through the door and we were going to be bringing you home. For good.

We arrived at the hospital right at 5am, and they immediately began strapping me into the bed with IVs, monitors, and fluids. Dr. Heaton came in and checked on me, and gave the go ahead to begin the Pitocin at 6am.

Contractions really got going not long after that.

All of your grandparents arrived, and then I got my epidural around 10am at 3 1/2 centimeters. I was scared of that epidural, but it quite awesome to feel contractions, but not hurt - and to have some relief from my lower back pain for the first time in 6 months.

Your daddy and grandparents left me alone to go get some lunch after the medicine kicked in. I was able to rest a little, watch my soap opera, and listen to your heartbeat on the monitor.

I knew it would be the last time I would hear your heartbeat like that.

All throughout the day, we progressed really quickly. Your GiGi predicted you would be here by 3pm. Around 2pm, Nurse Teri told your grandparents to leave the room and she began rolling in all the equipment.

It all became very real that you would be with us soon.

Nurse Teri told me to push on the next contraction. Your daddy took his place next to my head, holding on to the side rail of the bed. I pushed through the first contraction, then the next, and then the next.

We watched Peyton Manning's acceptance speech to the Denver Broncos in between contractions.

Dr. Hudson had not made it into the room yet. Nurse Teri said, "Will you press the nurse button?" When the intercom came on, she said, "Can you get stabilization and Dr. Hudson in here...NOW?" And then she told me not to push.

Not pushing is a very hard thing to do when you have a baby crowning.

Three more nurses and Dr. Hudson came in. Dr. Hudson quickly put on his gloves and he and Nurse Teri said some medical stuff back and forth. He sat down and said, "Are you ready?"

Was I ready?

Then he said, "Push until you can't push any more."

On that push, your head was out.

"One more push."

And then you were all out.

"It's a girl! 2:59 pm!"

And then the earth stopped.

You hadn't cried yet.

Dr. Hudson grabbed his suction and pulled some stuff out of your throat and there it was.

The first cry.

The most glorious sound in the whole world.

I burst into tears and Dr. Hudson cut the cord. They laid you on my chest and I saw you up close for the first time.

I had planned all these things I was going to say to you, but none of them came out. All I could do was stare and cry and praise the Lord silently.

You were here and you were perfect.

The nurses took you from me to run your tests and clean you up. Your daddy left me to go be with you and take pictures. They kept yelling things to me about you.

"6 pounds, 2 ounces!"

"20.5 inches long!"

"She keeps sticking her tongue out!"

"She's beautiful!"

I couldn't wait to get my hands back on you.

They wrapped you up tight and gave you to your daddy to bring back to me. I almost melted right off the bed when I saw him kiss your forehead for the first time.

He brought you to me and laid you right on my chest. Again, the tears were flowing. Your beautiful blue eyes were wide open and you were taking in every thing around you.

Once we were ready, your grandparents all came back in. Your GiGi later admitted she had almost made herself sick in the waiting room, wondering how we were doing in there. She was so relieved to hear that everything went so smoothly.

The iPhones were all whipped out and pictures were being snapped left and right. Each grandparent held you for a minute to introduce themselves to you. You were alert for a long time, and quickly snuck your way into everyone's heart in the room. We sang you Happy Birthday around your birthday cake, and then your Paw Paw, BeBe, and Dolly left.

GiGi stayed for a while to make sure that your daddy and I both ate. Soon, I was up out of bed and was able to change into my pajamas to get some rest. I wasn't in a lot of pain, but we were all starting to get tired. Then your GiGi left.

And it was just us three.

We held you and kissed you and loved on you, just like we'd wanted to do for so long. You were finally here - and you were ours.

You spent your nights in the nursery so your daddy and I could sleep before we took you home. You had lots of visitors, and nurses and doctors were in and out of our room to check on you and me. Everyone who came in raved about how beautiful you are. I already knew that, but it makes your mommy feel good when other people say it.

Thursday morning, Dr. Hudson cleared me to go home, and we waited on your final check ups before they cleared you. You were taken for hearing screenings and a few final blood sugar work ups. You scored As on all your tests, and they brought in your discharge papers. When I signed the last one, the nurse cut off your ankle bracelet and said, "OK, she's officially yours!"

Wow. Officially ours. My cheeks hurt from smiling so much.

We put you in your pretty little gown, which both your Uncle Wes and I wore home from the hospital when we were born. Then I tied on your bonnet, which I wore, and then used as a hanky on our wedding day. If your daddy ever gives a boy permission to marry you, you can use it on your wedding day.

But we won't think about that just yet.

We got you in the truck, waved goodbye to the nurses, and started out towards home.

On the way home, "God Gave Me You" came on the radio. Your tiny little fingers gripped mine, and I watched you in silence and wept tears of joy.

God gave me you for the ups and downs

God gave me you for the days of doubt

For when I think I've lost my way

There are no words here left to say, it's true

God gave me you.

The Last Letter Before Your Birthday

Well, Brooke Allen. Tomorrow is the day.

Tomorrow I will finally meet you.

I will count your fingers and toes about 100 times to make sure you have 10 of each.

I will hold you close to my chest because I know you will miss the sound of hearing my heart beat from the inside.

I will memorize every inch of your little face, learn all the curves, and store them in my little box in my mind so I can remember what you looked like before you start to age.

I will hear your first cries and begin to learn what makes you tick - how you like to be held, how you like to sleep, and how you react to the world around you.

I will see your daddy hold his little princess for the first time and watch him melt with the first look of your blue eyes into his.

I will know if you look more like a Parrish, a Bankston, a Thornton, or a Benson.

I will watch your grandparents all fall in love with you as they each hold you one by one.

I will take a million pictures with my phone and make sure Facebook and especially your Uncle Wesley and Aunt Dervon know just how beautiful you are.

And most importantly...I will know if your hair is red.

I can't wait to meet you, Brooke Allen. You are going to be so loved.

I can't imagine loving you any more than I already do. I have a feeling my heart may burst tomorrow when I am at last holding your tiny body.

This last day is bittersweet for me and I'm finding myself a little emotional about the end of the experience. Up until Friday at our doctor's appointment, I had woken up every day wondering if it would be the day that would be your birthday. Now, there is a finality to it all. After tomorrow, I will no longer be pregnant. I will be a mommy to an infant.

I will miss your kicks and tugs and pushes. I will miss trying to guess what body part is poking out of my belly. I will miss our silent conversations because I will no longer be able to assume you can hear what I'm thinking. I will miss being able to use being pregnant as an excuse to lounge around the house and eat multiple bowls of cereal.

At the current moment, I have been banned to the chair in the living room watching your daddy and your GiGi scurry about the house cleaning it to have it ready for visitors after your arrival. GiGi just had a fit about all the dog hair left around the house by your big sister, who is spending a few days at the doggie hotel. She is cleaning our house top to bottom. Oh, how we appreciate this. Your daddy is outside in the yard, giving it the first mow of spring. I did spend a good amount of time cleaning our bathroom this morning, until I was told I wasn't allowed to work anymore and I needed to rest and relax for our big day tomorrow.

So now I'm just sitting. Thinking. Praying.

Praying that all will go as planned tomorrow, beginning bright and early at 5am.

Praying that all of our family who will be traveling to see us tomorrow will be safe and sound.

Praying that labor and delivery will be relatively easy, and I will not have to undergo a c-section. Of course, if that is best for you and me, I will not hesitate to sign the papers.

Praying that you will have that first big gasp of air and that first big shock cry of the outside world.

Praying that you are healthy and well-developed and we do not have to understand the harsh reality of intensive care, where you and I would be separated until you are healthy enough for me to hold you.

Praying that we will be able to take you home on Thursday or Friday, place you in your crib, and begin the hard work of being your parents.

You are going to be ours tomorrow.

I cannot wait.

Just Wait

People like to say really stupid things to pregnant women.

They also like to give unrequested advice.

By far, the most popular, and my least favorite, is "just wait."

"You think you don't sleep now? Just wait until that baby is born."

"You think you're uncomfortable and fat now? Just wait until you're 39 weeks pregnant."

"You think you have a lot of laundry now? Just wait until you add baby clothes to the piles."

"You think there's not enough hours in the day now? Just wait until the baby monopolizes most of your time."

Just wait.

Just wait.

Just wait.

And always coupled with a negative statement.

Like I didn't know before I set out on this baby adventure that babies don't sleep more than two to three hours at a time.

Like I didn't know I was going to get fat. So fat that not even maternity clothes fit at the end.

Like I didn't know babies wear three or four outfits a day because they will all eventually end up with spit up or projectile poop on them.

Like I didn't know when the baby is awake, she needs to be constantly watched and attended.

Really. I'm not stupid.

I know, "just wait." I have no idea what it will actually be like until she gets here.

Until she's up for the fourth time at night and I've done everything I know to do and she's still screaming her head off.

Until I've changed the 15th poopy diaper and wiped the never ending spit up off my shoulder.

Just wait.

Just wait until you see that positive pregnancy test and your mind literally blows. I don't think I've ever experienced more raw emotion than that Tuesday morning. It was excitement, terror, happiness, and fear, all wrapped up in a little piece of plastic that just told you your world was about to change in every way possible.

Just wait until you bust out of the bathroom door and scream at the top of your lungs to your unsuspecting sleeping husband - "WE'RE PREGNANT!" - and see that totally unawake face break into the biggest smile and see that first daddy tear.

Just wait until you feel her move for the first time, even though you're driving on the interstate and you're husband is in mid sentence. All you can think about is how that rolling feeling is your BABY, and how gracious and awesome God is that He blesses us like this.

Just wait until your entire family is present for the ultrasound and it takes almost an hour for your modest tiny baby to show her stuff. Then the hot tears of happiness as your husband wraps his arms around you as you rejoice together that the beautiful life you've created together IS someone - your little girl. And she has a name - Brooke Allen.

Just wait until all you want in the middle of the night is to get up to pee, and then go raid the pantry. Eating for two is a marvelous excuse to eat chips at 12am.

Just wait until you're so hugely pregnant that all you can think about is getting this baby OUT, but you recognize at the same time how scared you are to bring a baby into your home for you to take care of - and how scared you are to feel empty inside after she's born.

Just wait until it finally hits your husband that there's a baby coming, and his daddy switch turns on. He'll frantically pack a suitcase, install car seats, put together nursery furniture, and talk to your belly every day telling her to come out because he's ready to meet her.

Just wait until you love someone with your whole being, and you've never even seen her face. You know that her little body is going to fill that missing place in your heart that you didn't even know was there until almost 40 weeks ago.

Just wait. It's more than you can ever imagine.

Not Yet (and Nursery Reveal)

Dear Brooke Allen,

Yet again, we thought you were coming the other day.

Thursday morning, I woke up with contractions.

And then I realized they were fairly regular.

So, I grabbed my phone and started up the app that times contractions.

7 1/2 minutes apart, lasting at least 1 1/2 minutes every contraction.

For an hour.

They were so regular, I figured out the sensation I would have right before one would start so I could get the phone ready.

We decided we'd better get things together just in case we needed to go to the hospital.

Your daddy hopped in the shower while I rocked my way through contractions in the bed.

And by rocked, I mean literally rocked. Not in an rock=awesome kinda way, but a rock=swaying back and forth because it was the best way to cope.

While I got in the shower, which was quite difficult having contractions every 7 1/2 minutes, your daddy packed the suitcase. I would yell "OK!" when I needed him to press the button on the phone to time the contraction, and then "OK!" when he needed to stop it.

I know, I know. We should have had the suitcase packed waaaaaaay beforehand, but we didn't.

I called the doctor after I took a shower. Since the contractions were so regular and we were going on two hours, they told us to come on in.

So I put on a little make up, double checked the suitcase (your daddy did pack it, you know), and grabbed a few necessary baby items and threw them in the diaper bag - onesies, nail files, sleepers. I just don't feel right about you staying in the hospital t-shirt the whole time we're there. I'm afraid you'll get cold.

Your daddy moved the car seat from my car to his truck and we threw everything in.

We knew if I actually was in labor, it would be a while before we would eat, so we went through the Burger King drive through on the way.

We finally got to the doctor's office, and they took us to a room. Your heart rate was good, my blood pressure was good, and contractions were still happening.

Then, Dr. Lassiter came in and checked my cervix.

NOTHING.

After almost four hours of what we thought was labor, my cervix was high and closed.

You were not coming at all on that Thursday.

We left the doctor's office stunned. We could not believe that all the pain, pressure, and strength I was feeling from these contractions were just Braxton Hicks.

When we got home, I cried and cried in your daddy's arms in the closet trying to change back into my pajamas.

I cried because I was still having contractions and my stomach was so sore from the constant tightening and releasing.

I cried because I knew these contractions meant nothing.

I cried that I was not going to meet my little girl that day.

I was so excited, thinking we were going to meet you on Thursday. I was finally going to hold you and kiss you and pray on you and tell you how long I've waited for you.

But I didn't get to do that on Thursday.

Friday morning, we had our regular appointment, which Dr. Lassiter told us to keep. We went to the office, still feeling a little defeated from the day before. We saw the other Dr. Hudson, who talked to us about what had happened on Thursday, and then he checked my cervix.

I had dilated 1/2 a centimeter.

Apparently, you were quite busy on Thursday.

I never thought I would be SO EXCITED about 1/2 a centimeter. It meant progress. It meant we only have to go 9 1/2 more centimeters before we will meet you. It meant that Thursday was not all in vain.

Your daddy and I went for a celebratory breakfast at The Pancake House, and then went to Talladega to the International Motorsports Hall of Fame to walk you out and progress some more.

So, here we are, on Monday. We're still waiting. The suitcase we had so frantically packed on Thursday is by the back door, and your diaper bag, wreath, Boppy, and car seat are all still in your daddy's truck.

We are READY for when you actually decide to be born.

Dear Brooke Allen

After our little pep talk yesterday, you got a little antsy.

Luckily, your daddy was home last night to help me get through it. He's doing a Spanish class for work yesterday and today, so he's not on regular shift.

You scared him real bad.

We met at Taco Bell for dinner, and then headed to Publix for grocery shopping.

We were in the frozen foods when I felt the first few contractions. By the time we got to the cheese aisle, I was having to stop walking and breathe through them.

I told your daddy, "Get the ground beef - 93/7 - I'm going to the bathroom."

Once we got all the food in the car, we went home and he unloaded everything for me. I honestly don't know how I would have done this without him.

I laid on the couch and opened the app on my phone that times contractions. They weren't very consistent - 3 minutes apart, then 10 minutes apart, then 6 minutes, then 18.

But they HURT. They were so intense that I couldn't talk. I could only breathe.

Your daddy came over and rubbed my back for about 20 minutes and watched the contraction timer like a hawk. Then he said, "Do we need to call the doctor?"

"No, they're not close enough yet."

"How close do they need to be?"

"The doctor says 5 minutes apart, lasting at least one minute for one hour."

"Well, do I need to put the car seat in?"

"It wouldn't hurt."

So off he goes.

"I think I'm going to go ahead and install the extra base in my truck, too."

"That sounds good, baby."

Off he goes again.

"Do we need this yet?" holding the car seat for when you're bigger, still in the box.

"No, not until she outgrows the pumpkin seat."

"Ok then I'm going to put this in the garage."

"Ok. That's great."

"I'm going to put the stroller in the garage, too. We won't need that for a while"

"Ok, baby."

Then, he disappears into the nursery and doesn't come out for some time.

I pick myself up off the couch - no easy feat, mind you, because every big movement causes another contraction - and mosey into the nursery.

I find your daddy folding your receiving blankets that I had washed over the weekend.

"Hey babe, what are you doing?"

"I don't think you're going to make it to this weekend. We need to get things ready."

So I showed him all the things I had done in the nursery on Sunday while he was at work. He put together the monitors that I couldn't figure out while I folded all your little clothes that I had washed. He had lots of questions about what certain things were and how they worked - the Boppy pillow, swaddling blankets, scratch mittens, Nap Nanny.

His deer in the headlights look that he'd been sporting for a few hours began to wane as I sat down in your rocker and explained these things to him.

"Are you scared, Ben?"

"A little."

"There's no need to be scared. I don't know what I'm doing either."

Last night is possibly one of my favorite nights with your daddy of all time.

He cannot wait to be your daddy. He loves you so much already.

Dear Brooke Allen

Your mommy is miserable.

In fact, your mommy thinks she may die before you are born.

You dropped on Sunday, which adds to a list of new problems I'm experiencing.

My hips hurt. My back aches in new places. I'm waddling like a penguin. My feet look like beach balls.

Your daddy thinks it's funny to poke my feet and my ankles because his fingerprint stays indented.

I don't find it so funny.

Dr. Heaton said on Friday that if you don't make any progress by my appointment this Friday, that we're going to set a date to evict you.

I know you're extremely comfortable in there. Who wouldn't be? It's dark and warm and you exert little to no effort for food. I think you know as soon as you are born, it's going to be cold and sterile and you won't be attached to your mommy anymore.

I don't want to force you out, but it's looking like that might be a possibility.

So come on, Brooke Allen.

Let's move it along.

People ask me every stinking day when you're coming.

My response is "whenever she's good and ready."

Your room is finished. You have a nice crib to rest in, a rocking chair to fuss in, and lots and lots of diapers. You've got a stroller, a pack n play, and tons of clean clothes as of Sunday. I worked hard to make everything perfect for you.

Your GiGi has her bag packed and she takes it with her to work every day, just in case you show up during the day time.

All your grandparents have email instructions on what to do when we call them to say you're on your way.

Your daddy now checks his phone constantly while he's at work to see if I've called to tell him to rush home. He's also given me his training officer's and the precinct's phone numbers in case I can't get in touch with him.

See Brooke Allen?

Everyone is ready to meet you.

But you're like you're mommy, and you'd just assume to keep everyone waiting so you can make your grand appearance at just the right time.

We're waiting. Come on when you're ready.

Dear Brooke Allen

We checked on you this morning. :)

Your heartbeat is still strong and feisty at 148. It's a far cry from the first few times we heard it though - at 178.

I just have a sneaky suspicion by the way you move and how fast your heartbeat always is that you are going to be A LOT like your mother, and not like your father.

Except for that head shape. Still worried about that.

Dr. Hudson seems to think that you are going to make your appearance before your due date, which is scheduled for March 23rd.

He mentioned that several times during our appointment today.

I've been saying that for a while.

I'm thinking we should aim for St. Patrick's Day - March 17th. You are EXTREMELY Irish, and you can be our little Lucky Charm - which, coincidentally, is all I want to eat nowadays.

Good thing your daddy moved to evening shift so I can eat Lucky Charms for dinner (sometimes 2 bowls) and not feel guilty for not making a hot meal.

And if you are born on St. Patrick's Day, it's more incentive for me to buy that cute onesie at Carter's that says "Kiss Me, I'm Irish."

I can't wait to kiss you.

I thought I was going to meet you the other night. I woke up with STRONG contractions on Saturday night. I've had some small "practice" contractions for quite a while now, but I've never had any wake me up.

I sat on the edge of the bed timing them for about an hour, but none were ever close enough to be worried about it. Charlotte helped me time them - she stayed up with me through the whole ordeal. Your daddy, not so much. He woke up once, asked me what was wrong, had a small panic attack, and went back to sleep.

I figured I really didn't need him at that moment. I could wake him up when I knew it was time to go.

In between contractions, I was making my mental list of all the things I was going to need to do before we left for the hospital. We're going out of town this weekend, so I haven't packed our bags for the hospital yet. I was planning what would go in the bag for the hospital, remembering where our spare pillow cases were, thinking about what make up I was going to take, if I needed to shave my legs...

Lots of things were running through my mind.

But the biggest thing running through my mind is how much I'm going to miss you when you're born.

I know that I'll have you on the outside, but I'm going to miss you being on the inside.

That may sound crazy, but you are my little buddy in there. You have been with me constantly for 8 months. For 4 months, I've been able to feel you moving. I track your progress every week - how you're growing, what you're doing, and what you've accomplished. I know where you are, and I know that you're safe and warm.

After you're born, I won't have that security anymore. You are going to be a part of me - on the outside. I'll SEE you kicking and moving and hiccupping, but I won't feel it anymore.

I think I may feel empty for a while.

But my heart will be full. Because I'll finally see your sweet face. I'll hear your sweet breaths. I'll hold your sweet little body with my arms. I can comfort you when you're upset, feed you when your hungry, and enjoy each and every moment with you.

Most of all, your daddy will get to experience this. He doesn't feel you move all day long. He doesn't get to have conversations with you. He's only felt you kick a few times, because you're stubborn, and when daddy comes over to feel you move, you stop. He will get to hold you and talk to you and love you finally.

I can't wait to see his face when he holds you for the first time. I'm going to try as hard as I can to take a mental picture of that moment, and store it in my happy box in my mind, so I can visit it any time I want.

And you are welcome to come home any time you are ready.

We are ready for you.

Dear Brooke Allen,

Being pregnant is odd.

There are lots of things that happen in pregnancy that I just wasn't prepared for.

Yeh, I read a book. I frequently visit a website with message boards so we can compare "Is this happening to you" situations.

But still.

Someone should have warned me.

Like about the back pain. It sucks. All over.

Or that you wake up randomly in the night, not to pee, but to just lay there, wide awake, drenched in sweat.

The headaches of first trimester.

The anxiety of choosing bottles and nipples and formula.

How the baby runs out of room in your belly about 34 weeks in, but she's still growing, so the pressure HURTS every time I breathe or we hit a bump in the car.

Constipation.

Heartburn.

Seasickness.

The asanine things people say to you:

At 33 weeks: "You look like you're about to pop!"

*AWKWARD SILENCE AND STARING*

"Nope, still have about 7 more weeks left."

"Sleep now before that baby gets here because you'll never sleep again!"

So you're telling me there's a secret box somewhere where I can store up sleep now to use after the baby gets here? AWESOME!!!!!

"Oh you're pregnant? Let me tell you a 15 minute story about my daughter who they had to do an emergency c-section at 25 weeks and she and her son almost died. He spent the next 2 months in NICU and my daughter had to have a complete hysterectomy. Did I scare you? I'm sure you'll be fine."

"Are you going to get rid of the dog once the baby gets here?"

First trimester, can hardly hold my eyes open, and I'm struggling to keep from puking:

"OH I just LOVED being pregnant! I would do it ten more times if I could!"

Really? Could I punch you ten times in the face to make up for it?

And my all time favorite:

Toothless guy in the Publix checkout line points to a tabloid cover with emaciated Angelina Jolie on the cover saying 98 pounds and Pregnant.

"Good thang ya ain't that skinny. Too small ta be hafin a baby."

Geez, toothless guy! You really know how to make a girl's day!

There are times when I look down at my belly and actually SEE Brooke Allen rolling around in there. And it dawns on me...

SHE HAS TO COME OUT OF THERE.

Yes. A human. Growing in my belly. Has to come out. Large baby. Small space.

We watched the video. I understand the logistics. But how is this going to happen to me? My body is really going to do that?

My mind conveniently switches back to Genesis and the fall of man...you know, the part when God tells Eve that childbirth shall be a curse among women?

Eve just HAD to take a bite of that fruit.

I know, I know. Women have been having babies since the Eve had Cain and Abel. I get it.

But it doesn't mean it doesn't suck.

It doesn't mean that I've questioned whether I want to actually do this a few more times like Ben and I have planned.

It doesn't mean that I don't lay in bed and cry because I want to go to sleep and Brooke Allen is practicing her floor routine.

And then I see what is obviously a foot sticking out, distorting what used to be a fairly flat tummy like the movie Alien. So I push on it...and she kicks me back.

Then it all comes rushing back why I did choose to do this, and probably will do it a few more times.

Our BABY is in there. The baby that God chose for Ben and me.

The baby that I love more than anything I've ever loved before, and I've never even met her.

And I know that love will multiply by billions when I see her face for the first time.

So gladly, Brooke Allen, I will sacrifice my body, my sleep, and my emotions for you.

I would do it ten more times if I could.

Because I love you already.

Dear Brooke Allen

Dear Brooke Allen,

You're almost here. I can't believe it.

I've been thinking a lot lately about all the things we'll need to do to provide for you. Not just with food, shelter, and clothing, but in life itself. Our home will be your classroom. Your personality will grow from what you learn from us.

I promise to make our home a happy home, brimming with love, imagination, and fun.

I promise that home will always be a place that you will feel welcome to be yourself. You will always be accepted and wanted.

I promise to tell you I love you every chance that I get. Life is too short to do otherwise.

I promise to love your daddy for the rest of our lives so that you will grow up in a home full of love and affection, and you will have an example to follow as you search for your husband.

I promise to read your favorite books to you at night until you can tell the story back to me without having to open the pages - and then we'll read them some more.

I promise to let you wear your princess dress to the grocery store.

I promise to pray for you as often as I can. I pray for you to be a strong woman with her own convictions. I pray that you will be compassionate and kind. I pray that you will always know love, whether you're receiving it from others or giving it away.

I promise to work hard every day at my job, so that you never have to go without.

I promise to make shampoo sundaes on your head in the bathtub.

I promise to provide boundaries so that you will have fun within limits.

I promise to let you learn from your mistakes.

I promise to make you peanut butter and jelly pocketbooks.

I promise to play with your hair until you fall asleep.

I promise to scare away all the monsters in the closet and under the bed.

I promise to not only take you to church on Sundays, but to live church in our home, so that you'll always understand the grace and love of Jesus.

I promise to tell you that boys are silly and that you're too good for him when you come home with a broken heart.

I promise to turn off the tv and computer and make you go outside to play.

I promise to let you watch Cinderella as many times as you want.

I promise to teach you the value of money and the treasure in earning it for yourself.

I promise to write notes on your napkin in your lunchbox.

I promise that I will never be too busy to talk.

I promise that I will do my best to give you a little brother or sister that you can love and torture.

I promise to never stifle your imagination.

I promise to memorize all your baby doll's names.

I promise to protect you from all that I can, and teach you to protect yourself for when I can't.

I promise to teach you about GOOD music, which does not include Justin Beiber or Lady Gaga.

I promise to give you my honest opinion, from haircuts to boys to friends.

I promise to not let you embarrass yourself on American Idol if you sing like your daddy.

I promise to let you eat cookies and candy bars, but not before dinner.

I promise to encourage you to be YOUR best in everything, even if someone else is THE best.

I promise to not let you quit a sports team until the season is over.

I promise to be your best friend, even though you won't realize this until you're much older.

I promise to let you choose what college you want to attend, even if it is Auburn - but they must give you scholarship money for me to be happy about that. And if you decide not to attend college, I'm going to be ok with that, too, as long as you're doing what you love and it's not illegal.

I promise to do everything in my power to be the best mom I can be to you. There are going to be times that you don't like my rules or limits, but I promise to hold fast to them so that one day you will understand.

And most of all, I promise to tuck you in like a burrito and kiss your stuffed animals and you goodnight. Every night.

Dear Brooke Allen

Dear Brooke Allen,

2012 has begun, which means big changes for our family.

In 2012, we will go from being a family of two + dog, to a family of three + dog.

We've been pretty ordinary up to this point.

Just a husband, a wife, and a dog.

Now we'll be a daddy, a mommy, a baby, and a dog.

You are going to change EVERYTHING about our ordinary little life.

Not that I am complaining. I am so ready for you to change everything.

But your daddy and I sometimes forget how big these changes are going to be. For example, we were talking the other day about trips we'd like to take, things we'd like to purchase, and the time and money to do those things.

Then it dawned on us...oh yeh...we'll have a baby to figure out with all this. This means no spur of the moment trips, no easy planning for quiet nights alone, no going to concerts or out with friends (unless there's a babysitter of course).

Once you join our family, our every moment is going to be consumed about what's best for YOU and not what mommy and daddy want.

To be honest, Brooke Allen, you already consume my thoughts. I think about you all the time.

I mostly think about you because you remind me to think about you while you stick your long toes in my ribs.

But I do. I think about you all the time. I think about what you'll look like and what your personality will be like. I make plans for your room and our schedules. I go over the pros and cons of making your baby food about 100 times a day. And I DREAM of what it would be like to be a stay at home mom with you, but I reality check myself quickly when I think about how fast the bank would foreclose on our house...

Then I think about life next year, when you'll be walking and saying words. And then in five years when we take you to kindergarten. And then in 15 years when you start talking about cars and boys. And in 18 years when we drop you off at your college dorm.

I think about what good friends we will be as you get older. I'll teach you how to love shopping with me and GiGi. I'll teach you about make up and hair and how to be a lady. We'll put you in ballet classes or cheerleading, and of course, softball. Daddy says no pageants, but we'll see about that.

I think about how you are going to be Daddy's princess. He is going to adore you, and you will have him wrapped around your little finger. He is going to dance with you, and let you put lipstick on him, and make him play dolls with you. Then he's going to embarrass you at your first Homecoming dance by making sure he's dressed in his police uniform when that little boy shows up nervously on our front step.

Brooke Allen, you are going to completely change our lives. But you are going to complete our family. Your birthday is going to trump all other favorite days of mine. I can't wait for the nurse to lay you on my chest and kiss those toes that are poking me all day long. I can't wait to see your daddy's face when he holds you for the first time.

Your first breaths, your first cries, the first time you open your eyes.

These little things are the big things that will complete my heart.