"There's someone missing"

When my sister saw this photo, she said her heart nearly burst, not just because of the cuteness of the matching footie pyjamas but because of the way the photo was framed: the three kids sitting closely together, with an empty spot next to Anna, awaiting her little brother.

I can't wait to fill it.

It reminds me of our trip to Halifax in October. We had no idea that we were expecting another baby. Yet at one point while we were making the long drive, I turned around in the passenger seat, probably to pass someone a drink or some Goldfish crackers, and I looked into the back of our van, and got chills: I felt certain there was a child missing. Our family was made to hold another person.

The moment passed, because someone asked me a question and I got distracted.

But I held onto that memory.

It was right in the forefront of my mind as I took a pregnancy test on Thanksgiving afternoon in my parents' bathroom. Here was the baby I was made to love, the little one I somehow 'knew' was missing from our family. It was there when I excitedly but in a haze of surprise texted my husband who was in Assisi. It was especially there when we told our children after dinner one night and they all cheered and squealed, and our lovable Isaiah stood up on his chair and began to dance.

In just a matter of weeks, I will meet this child. Equally important, though, so will our children. Their hearts are so ready, their joy is so palpable even though they have never met their brother. It constantly impresses upon my heart such delight -- to see my own children growing in unconditional love. The beautiful witness they unknowingly present emboldens me as I grow weary in the last stretch of pregnancy.

Each of them were worth every stretch mark, every labour pain, every nervous tear shed. And so is this little baby.

"My whole heart will be yours forever / This is a beautiful start of a lifelong love letter."