to lucy miller on her 5th birthday

My girl,

What a mighty little thing you are. Maybe it’s because I just wrote a book, but I’m finding that there are no words to describe you, or maybe they got used up. Everyone knows there’s something extra magical about you. People see it in you as you pass by them in the store; people see it when you’re coloring quietly alone. You exude a cloud of pure, feel good wonderfulness everywhere you go.

I love the way you dress. You have, as expected, shirked some of my more vintage, bluish dresses this year in favor of sparkles and cheap tulle. I mostly let you, begging and bribing for you to wear my dresses for special occasion. Nevertheless, you slay me when you come down the stairs ready to go, no matter what you wear.

You aren’t super “normal smart”, meaning you don’t quite know your abc’s and get mixed up on numbers. BUT you are really brilliant. You are ambidextrous and easily draw the same picture with both hands at the same time (see picture below). You also write your name upside down and backwards in the quirkiest way.

You go to preschool every day and you LOVE it. You have the sweetest teachers who adore you. I considered having you go only 3 days a week since you start Kindergarten this Summer and I will miss you, but you love it too much. You march to school every day like it’s a party. Every day we arrive you make me hide in the corner or you hide and we make up silly stories for the teachers. One day, matter of factly, you said, “My pawents are dead and I live in the fowest.” Ha!

I’m not one bit worried about you going to Kindergarten. That’s so nice.

Lucy, this sounds so weird but I rarely am sad about you growing up. You are like the most incredible blooming flower that gets more beautiful and more amazing as time goes on. I can almost see you as a grown woman in my head and she is just a masterpiece. I just feel like I’m breathlessly watching you every new day and so I don’t feel sad about what is left behind. Besides, I squeeze you and kiss your squishy cheeks a hundred times day. We lay in bed and watch movies before the boys get home. You really got into makeup this year and would do mine fabulously every day for a while there. We have such special times just us girls.

You are almost always one of the only girls in a group of boys and you don’t even blink. You love dirt and lizards and jumping and climbing and you do it all in a dress. This summer you started jumping off the diving board in the deep end. You just went for it!

Your strong personality has gotten quite strong the past six months and honestly I’ve tried to let many things slide (thanks for holding me to it Barclay). Honestly when you do something wrong or say something mean but look at me in the eyes…I barely can find words. We are working on it. I want you to be a strong woman and I don’t want to tame you, but I also want you to have friends and be a good human to be around.

You love Jesus and insist on praying painfully slowly before every meal. Your sweet little voice makes it such a delight, even if we are all hungry.

You love your daddy and insist on helping him loop his belt in the mornings. He reads to you every night and you both have memorized Go Dog Go.

You and I got to take two special solo trips to visit my sisters this past year (and one next week to see your new cousin in New Hampshire!). Traveling and flying with you is just pure fun. I love watching you interact with everyone around.

This summer we went to a wedding and you found yourself in the middle of the dance floor all night. That’s you my girl.

I love you, I love you, I love you!

I CAN believe you’re five today because I feel like we’ve been together all of our lives.

Mama

mandy's story | the birth of lucy rose

Oh birth.  Always teaching and stretching us to the very last moment.  Mandy had 2 hard weeks of prodromal labor that had worn her down, despite her sweet and positive attitude.  I personally experienced prodromal labor with all three of my babies and it was incredibly exhausting-I was an incredibly empathetic doula.  So the early morning phone call I got from Matt that it was go time made me jump from my bed in celebration.  

Everyone labors differently and Mandy was incredibly calm and relaxed during her labor.  I was really struck when I walked into the triage room by her hands; one open and receiving and the other clutching on to her husband.

The labor was gentle and progressed like a text book.  Dad and I squeezed her hips the whole time and we were a good team (we were sore the next day!).  

Some of my favorite moments were:

During a hard transition, Mandy was still laying still and quiet-just shaking a bit, and Who Runs the World-Girls by Beyonce came on the birth playlist.  Mandy came out of her trance and gave me a little knowing smile.

When Lucy's head was born, she stayed there for a minute or two and she stared RIGHT INTO HER DADDY'S eyes.  Such a sacred moment.  Half in mom, and staring into dad. I could barely contain how cool that was.

After all her quiet laboring and triumphant birth, Mandy looked at me and said with intensity, "I want a cheeseburger, tots and a milkshake."  Ha!  I made that happen fast as I could.

Wyatt meeting his sister and looking her over in delight.  I loved how they set Lucy on the bed so he could get to know her himself-I had never seen that.  

I love this family and it was magic to witness the birth of their Lucy Rose.  They live down the street from me so I get to snuggle her often and that makes me smile.

Enjoy these incredible images.  Thanks for letting me share Mandy!

ellie mae | on the night you were born

*Trigger Warning for Loss *

On the night you were born, the moon was full and ripe.  Good Friday was hanging heavy in my heart; sacred and holy...but full of grief, so full of grief.

It's a strange thing to grieve at a birth before a first cry.  A hesitant expectation.  You shocked all the doctors, consistently defying the odds for months...but still we didn't know if there would even be a first cry. 

When you were born, everyone held their breath. There was a hymn playing in the background as we waited, wide eyed, to see if you would breathe. 

You did. You gurgled a cry.

You were created perfectly, Ellie Mae, even though your 6th chromosome was not there.  Tears fell down my face as I photographed your tiny hands clutching at your daddy's finger, your lips, your perfect feet.  There was no denying your creator loved you.

For days your family and friends gathered to wait for you, to welcome you.  Ebbing in and out of the room like the tide; loving and serving and then giving space.  It was obvious their love for you and your family.  It was so deep, so tender, and such a beautiful part of your story.     

The hours following your birth were filled with grandparents ooing and ahhing, just like they always do, tears, laughs, treasuring every minute.  It felt a bit numb to me, like I was in a sacred dream.  Your mama and daddy loved you for a lifetime in those minutes, in those hours.  

The nurse and I sang the doxology over you.  It wasn't pretty but it was beautiful.

I was so honored, so deeply honored to have witnessed your short life, Ellie Mae.  God reached my heart in a way I didn't think possible that night. 

When morning came your breaths had gradually finished.  Gentle.  

Your big sisters came to meet you full of joy. That's when the heaviness set in.  Their eyes were bright as they discovered your tiny features, just like it always is with siblings. 

A beloved blanket was given up, wrapping your tiny body in it. Chubby baby hands comforted Mama.  They knew you weren't there but still they asked, 

"Why can't we take her home, Mommy?"

My heart is broken that they couldn't.

Easter came two days later.  Full of hope and life eternal.

Words cannot even touch the sorrow left in the hearts here.  

I can't heal it, but I can shout from the roof tops that you lived!

I can share it far and wide: the beautiful story of your birth.