To my dearest daughter, Jade,

I want to tell you the story of how your arrival into this world was the greatest surprise our friends and family have ever known. But before I share that story, I have to explain how we got here.

When Daddy and I built our house, it was an exhausting, tiresome, emotionally draining process, and we shared our excitement with practically everyone in our lives. Someone once told us that buying a house is a test of your sanity, and that building one was even worse. It goes without saying, that they were right. We searched properties for years, continuously inspecting parcels of land, always getting our hopes up that we had found the place for our “forever” to take place, for each and every one to fall through for one reason or another. Finally, after five years of searching, we purchased the 12-acre piece of heaven that we now call home. But physically building the house was just as difficult as acquiring the land to build it on. Some days it seemed like every step was delayed, every desire was miscommunicated, and every task seemed inherently more difficult than it should have been. And without fail, almost every day following a particularly upsetting set-back, I would walk into work, or bump into a friend in a store, and they would innocently, and with the best of intentions, ask, “Hey, how’s the house coming?” Nothing knocked the wind out of me quite like that question some days. Sometimes I would answer while fighting off tears, or respond with the ever-so-phony “Oh, pretty good,” all while wishing I had never told anyone we had even considered building a house. The stress of construction really took a toll on me, which was only compounded by others’ knowledge of our struggle, and I swore that we would never be so open with our life’s plans again.

Fast-forward a whole year of living in our fantastic new home, we found out I was pregnant with you, my girl. Daddy and I were ready to begin our journey as parents, but not ready to share our excitement with anyone except each other just yet. We knew we would tell our friends and family at some point, but we were both still unsure how we felt about sharing such important and exciting news. Shortly before the end of my first trimester, the typical “safe” threshold when expectant parents share that a baby is on the way, we learned the devastating news that our friends, who were also about to give birth to their first child, had lost their beautiful baby girl at 34-weeks pregnant. We were shocked for them. We were heartbroken for them. We cried for them. As they informed their loved ones of their tremendous loss, we could not fathom the pain they were enduring, and any plans we had about protecting our peace and happiness about our baby girl, were solidified in that moment.

So, we decided to wait. We agreed to keep our joy just between us, until I couldn’t hide my growing belly any longer. We went through life as normal, waiting for the day when my clothes became too tight and my pregnant “glow” shone too brightly to be ignored. Except, here’s the wild part: For reasons I have yet to understand, that never happened. With each passing week, I would look in the mirror and be amazed that I still looked like my normal self. Some pairs of jeans were too tight, and I gained a small amount of weight, but that’s it, which my doctors reassured me was healthy and acceptable. I continued to look like my normal self until almost nine months pregnant. With the Coronavirus pandemic at its height, family holiday gatherings were postponed, so I was never in a situation where someone would be suspicious that I wasn’t enjoying my wine as I might normally be. We often say we experienced the “perfect storm” of scenarios where we could keep our girl a secret for so long.
We told a small group of people around eight and a half months pregnant, including our closest friends and family and, of course, your grandparents. (Don’t worry, we have Nana, Grandpa, Grammy & Papa’s reactions on video so we can celebrate that shocking moment forever!) I learned so much through this one-in-a-million experience. I learned what it truly feels like to put my own needs first. I learned what it means to protect someone, even though you weren’t here yet. I learned that my peace was far more valuable to me than I could have ever imagined. After you were born, we sent photos and surprise messages to the rest of our friends and extended family, and damn-near broke the internet with our first photos of you. Sharing our first moments as a family of three, after you had safely arrived into this world, became one of the greatest joys of my life.

We had a big party after you were born, and all of our friends came to meet you. This party was so important to me because I never wanted you to grow up thinking we chose not to celebrate you. We celebrated you in the quiet rejoice of healthy ultrasounds and doctor appointments with perfect heartbeat scans. We celebrated you with shopping carts filled with tiny pink clothes, since a baby girl is what Daddy and I both hoped for. We celebrated you with the surprise-of-a-lifetime announcement to your grandparents that you were coming in less than six weeks. We celebrated you by growing you in calmness, serenity, and peace, which was healthiest for me, meaning it as also healthiest for you.

You were the biggest, and teeniest, surprise of our lives, my girl. And, oh my, do we loudly celebrate you now.

I love you, Jade Vail.

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With all the love in my heart,