Part 1 — The Baby He Had Waited Years For
For nearly three years, my seven-year-old son, Ben, had asked us for the same thing.
A baby.
It didn’t matter whether it was his birthday, Christmas morning, or an ordinary Tuesday afternoon. If Ben thought there was even the slightest chance persistence might work, he would look at my husband, Daniel, and me and ask,
“When am I getting a brother or sister?”
Sometimes we laughed. Sometimes we told him these things weren’t exactly something we could put on a shopping list.
But Ben never stopped hoping.
So when Daniel and I finally sat him down and told him I was pregnant, his reaction was unforgettable.
He screamed.
Not a frightened scream. A joyful one.
It was so loud that our neighbor actually came over to make sure everything was all right.
Ben could barely contain himself during my pregnancy. He wanted to know everything. He talked to my stomach. He made plans for all the things he would teach the baby. He seemed completely certain that becoming a big brother was going to be the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.
