From Mother to Son: To My Little Man

Reader Contribution by Becky And Andy
Published on February 24, 2010
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About this time last year, I was basking in your newness and feeling quite proud of my little boy. According to the hospital’s standards, you were just three hours old. But I knew better.

Your father and I had known about you since the previous June, when Dadda got a message of sorts out in the field. A name. A specific name had come to him over the course of the day. “Ethan.” At first, he was confused. We didn’t really know any Ethans in our life. Why should this name come to his consciousness?

When he told me about the name, I wondered if our attempts at creating a sibling for Elly had been successful. A few days later, I nearly threw up at the smell of breakfast cooking and decided to take a pregnancy test. We were very successful indeed!

Ethan. So that’s what we were told to call you. I had always liked that name and your father agreed that it was a good name for a man. Having a name for you, given straight from God, right from the beginning; you were a living being for a full ten months before we ever laid eyes on you.

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