God is Gracious

It's amazing what one moment can do to shift your perspective on things. I had such a moment this afternoon as I lay there on the ultrasound tech's table with goo on my stomach, my ankles crossed and my arms folded on my chest. Watching all four distinct chambers of a tiny heart pumping on the screen. Then the flash of a hand, a perfectly formed spine, a leg. Then two tiny feet with ankles crossed just like mama.

I waited and waited and waited, through all the measurements of the heart and stomach and head, as the tech laughed at my baby's stubbornness to uncurl itself from its cozy position and give her a better view of things.

Finally, finally, the words I didn't think I'd need to hear as much as I did: "Everything looks healthy," she said, and a tear trickled down my cheek.

And then, "It's a boy." And I smiled the kind of smile that hasn't yet faded from my face, and the first word that came to mind was "Evan." It had been a name Chris mentioned weeks ago in passing and at the time I didn't really react to it one way or another. But there it was, as if he was naming himself. Toward the end of the session, he finally turned his face to look right at us, and opened and closed his mouth a few times. He looked like he was trying to say something. Don't worry, little one. I heard you.

So Evan it is. I've had mixed reactions to the name so far from those we've told. Some said they liked it. One said it wasn't as strong a name as Kostyn. Another said it was common. Some said it seemed to go well with Kostyn.

None of that really matters to me, because, quite simply, that's his name and I feel like I didn't even pick it, although I love it. From what I've read tonight, "Evan" means either "God is Gracious" or "Young Warrior."

God is Gracious, indeed. Evan, we love you! Hang tight in there. You and I still have some work to do...