A Spring of Joy

Every afternoon during our rest time ritual, I rock Audrey, read her a book or two, then sit by her crib for a few minutes while she lays quietly inside it. Today, she took her bear, sat up, grabbed a book, looked at me and said, “Read, Bear.” I watched while she held him gently on her lap facing outward. She positioned him just right, opened the book, and started pointing at the pictures, “Abbby, abby, ya,” she would read. Turn a page, “Abby, abby, ya.” Over and over. Sometimes she would stop, point at a picture and tell her bear what it was. Once she turned a page, then quickly turned it back and pointed squealing at the top of her lungs, “PINK!” Every now and then she would stop, pat her bear, kiss the top of his head and then continue reading. Getting to the last page, she said, “Dee end” and then turned her bear to face her hugging him tightly. Another gentle pat, a kiss, then she put him beside her in the bed and whispered, “Nigh-nigh. Wuv u bear-a.”

This little stinker turned 2 this week.

Complete with a purse cake and lots of presents, our baby passed another milestone. You can check out the par-tay pictures.

I spent the day before crying. The day of celebrating. Now I’m back to crying again. It’s not that I don’t want her to grow up, because I know that is how life is. It’s the mourning of missing 9 months of her growing and changing and vibrancy while I was fighting cancer. How can she be two already? Because it truly feels like she was just one a day ago. I have struggled through not being there for her. Missing her passages. Not being able to pick her up when she cries. Watching her tag along with her brothers and babysitters. Out the door. Off to new places and new things. Things I couldn’t participate in. I have had to let go of a lot with her, holding her with open hands.

I just can’t get enough of this face!

Every morning Audrey goes to her chest of drawers and points determinedly, picking out her clothes for the day. This includes her shoes which she must wear at all times. Once dressed, she will run to whomever is in sight and pose for them immediately, often with Micah, who she lovingly calls “Boy”. Asher is also “Boy”. (Yes, we stay in a state of confusion.)

Add to this the fact that at some point in the morning Audrey heads into her brothers’ war zone room. She opens their drawers and picks out the clothing they will wear each day even if it’s just jeans and a sweatshirt. And they listen. She’s not even two.

The coughs wracked her tiny body tearing me from my slumber. Rasping cries as I tiptoe through the darkness to her room. Frantic arms stretching over her crib as she desperately reaches. I grasp her into the quietness of my embrace and she stills. In the dim glow of her nightlight I gaze at her features. This delicate beauty. Long eyelashes curling around closed lids. Little nose breathing steadily. Exquisite mouth whispering a hoarse, “wock, wock,” whenever the gentle swaying ceases. Pudgy cheek nestled into my arm. Folded hands clasped as if in prayer tucked under her chin. I see my hand next to hers, long fingers, thin and frail. She is part of me. Part of Brian. This beautiful molding fashioned by God. I am amazed. I wrap her in soft fleece as I place her in her bed. Gentle kisses and a hushed, “Love, love.” She is one of many gifts. My heart overflows.

The cries were piercing over our baby monitor, waking me from a deep sleep. Audrey calling out for Mommy in an agonizing wail. I waited, because I assumed she would do one of two things. She would either fall back to sleep in a minute or my mom would go down and comfort her. With Brian in Northern Virginia, my parents stay with me to help care for the children, and Mom jumps at every chance to hold her grandbabies. I soon heard her tender voice soothing Audrey, but the wails only intensified. She screamed louder and louder, calling my name with desperation, stabbing my heart with each sob. I didn’t know what caused her cries, but I was certain of one thing. My child needed me, and I would go to her.

…falling asleep after a big plate of pasta. I love my Italian roots!

Just one of the many reasons I love my husband…

Little Women is one of my favorite books, and as I watch Audrey toddle around our home, I will often catch glimpes of each of the girls in that book, and I wonder what her little personality will bring.

Will she be a Meg, responsible for helping out in our home and the moral compass for her siblings? Yet vain and concerned about her clothes and looks? Will she know that true worth lies within and not in riches or appearances? She’s already learning that hand-me-downs are fine to wear, and those second hand shops have some adorable clothes, I might add. She cleans out the dishwasher every day with me, and “helps” sweep the floor with the boys every day. What I love the most is how she gets so excited to help, and I pray that gift will be cultivated in her heart more and more.