For I

It is inevitable that it will happen one of these days—at work or at home, maybe in the middle of the night, or on my lunch hour. Perhaps it will be this weekend, just after Doug and I bring Harrison into our bed for early morning snuggles: My phone is going to ring, I'm going to pick it up, and it's going to be you, or maybe Mike, saying, "Get thee to Buffalo because this baby's on the way!"

I am so humbled to be invited to be with you at this most sacred of times—to see you at your most powerful and most vulnerable. I am excited at the prospect of seeing another life coming into this world, or having just come into this world, but am even more moved that—for the rest of my life—I will be a part of that new being's life. That I will see that same person as they crawl around destroying your house like Harrison does mine now, and play in the yard on a summer evening with the other kids in your neighborhood, and come home from school excited and flushed with the excitement of the day, and hold the hand of their first sweetheart.

Of course, these are the same reflections I have had about Harrison. I am so excited about the prospect of his life and all the possibility that the world holds for him.

It's beyond poignant that your little one is due to arrive exactly one year after Harrison was set to make his grand entrance. I am so emotional about the passing of this year. Living it has changed me profoundly, and I'm torn between thanking God that it's over, and mourning that it has passed so incredibly quickly. I feel such joy—and a bit of envy—that you have yet to experience this incredible rush—the highs and the lows—this depth of feeling and incomparable love.

I am so excited for you, my darling best friend, and I'm waiting for that call.