I Hope You Get a Child Like You

Wondering where I've been the last seven months? Check out this new page. For now, here is a piece I wrote last winter but never posted:

Recently Grace was helping me clean the bathroom floor. She approached the task with the same vigor and endless energy that she does everything else in life. As I watched her serious expression while she scrubbed with all her toddler might, I couldn't help but smile and think, "Oh, Grace, I hope when you grow up you get a child just like you." Grace is the source of endless smiles and laughter around here. Her enthusiasm brings us much joy.

That night Jake overheard me telling Cameron how hungry I had been before dinner. Thinking the same might still be true, he dashed off to secretly make me a sandwich then raced in to present it to me. My boisterous, affectionate, passionate Jacob--I hope when you grow up you get a child just like you. Every parent should have a kid who hugs so tightly and writes such wonderful love notes. I feel like such a lucky mom.

The same day Abby decided it was time (in the middle of a blustery winter day) to have a picnic in the backyard with Grace. Ignoring my warnings about outside temperatures, they bundled up in coats, scarves, gloves, and sun bonnets and set out with apple slices and a basket full of toy food. I love Abby's active imagination. I love watching her play. I love hearing her delightful little giggle. I hope when she grows up she gets a child just like her.

And then there is my sweet baby Emma. She smiles, laughs, and doesn't complain about being schlepped about from one destination to the next for all of our family's different obligations. She is mild and sweet and a great source of joy and laughter. I love nuzzling her and whispering to her that she is my little slice of heaven. It's true. I hope when she grows up she gets a baby just like her.

Young motherhood is exhausting, but through it all our children bring us much joy and satisfaction. I hope when they grow up they all get children just like themselves.

She's Here!

Our littlest princess has arrived, and she is beautiful.

 Jake is a pro baby holder by now.

Abby is thrilled that there are so many girls in our family.

Grace is fascinated by this new little person.

And Cameron and I can't believe we have four children now. But we feel very, very blessed. Life is beautiful.

Luxury Bathrooms and Life Lessons

We recently finished re-doing our master bathroom. Last summer Cameron found some water damage and gutted the whole room. I should have taken some pictures, but if you can just imagine a room without a floor and with only some of the walls left intact, you'll pretty much have it. The last several months we talked to plumbers and shopped for fixtures and parts. And boy is it nice to have a bathroom again.

We got a luxury two-person tub on clearance.

And we finally have the dual shower heads we've always wanted.

Of course, pregnancies spent working on home renovation projects remind me of June 4, 2009, when Cameron spent the evening hammering baseboards into the playroom we were building. We were so excited for our second baby, who was due the next month, and we couldn't wait to watch our kids play together. The next day I walked into a doctor's office and was diagnosed with cancer. Quite suddenly finishing the playroom didn't matter. Purchasing the last couple baby items didn't matter. Eating didn't matter--I had no appetite. All that mattered was our marriage--our covenants with God and each other. All that I cared about was whether I would live to raise my children.

Months later as we started trying to regroup and crawl away from the trauma that encompassed that summer, we talked about what we had learned from my cancer, and we formulated what we now refer to as the cancer test. In the midst of my cancer all that mattered was our faith and our family. Life is so easily filled with things of no worth. Now when we make decisions, we hold our options up to the cancer test. If choices don't bring us closer to each other or to Jesus Christ, there's an excellent chance they aren't worth our time and money.

I think of the cancer test as I look at our bathroom now. If a fancy tub and shower gives me and Cameron a few extra minutes together, that time is precious to us. And if our three little monkeys all want to splash together in Mom and Dad's huge new tub or use it for their "cave" the answer is always yes.

Bathrooms come and bathrooms go, but families are forever. Thank goodness.

Baby Hungry

We were having one of those lovely family evenings together. We had decided to do a movie night, and Jake had selected his favorite movie for us--Mountain of the Lord. (Yes, our children live a wonderfully sheltered existence.) Cameron was in the kitchen popping the popcorn, and the whole house was scented with the buttery, salty smells of anticipation and family togetherness. I was sitting on the floor with the kids while they rolled around together in their jammies. Jake squeezed Grace, Grace laughed, and Abby and Jake launched into a discussion about how much they love Grace. I smiled and thought, "This is why we keep having kids."

There is something delightfully joyful and addictive about babies--their soft squishiness, their smiles and belly laughs, and the cute things they do that we all coo over. I love the way Abby and Jake adore Grace. They love to hug her, play with her, and laugh at the silly things she does. When our patience with her temper tantrums runs thin, they step in to help her. Families are a beautiful thing. I can't wait to see the kids fawning over our new baby this fall. August can't come soon enough.

Of Babies and Blanket Forts

Jacob: "I'm glad we're having more babies, Mom."

Me: "Really? Why is that?"

Jacob: "So we will have more mattresses so I can build bigger forts."

Me: "I'm glad this is all working out so nicely for you."

Stretch Marks

Several weeks ago we sat at dinner with some friends who have struggled for years with infertility. They are currently in the process of trying to adopt a foster child, but it is a long, hard road. They posed a question about whether they would be ready for a child.

“You’re never really ready to be a parent,” we quickly jumped in. “Parenthood is like a mission. It doesn’t matter how many classes you take or books you read—nothing prepares you for what it’s really like.” You get there, jump in with two feet and an open heart, and the Lord molds you for the burden. And you quickly see just how much you need Him.

At our house we are eagerly awaiting the arrival of baby #4 at the end of the summer. We are excited. We feel so blessed that the Lord is sending us another child. Will we be ready? Is anyone ever truly ready to be completely responsible for the care, teaching, and nurturing of another person? No. We will try to prepare. Then we will get there and the Lord’s grace will carry us.

We don’t have children because we are incredibly prepared or unusually bright or talented or capable. We don’t have children because it’s easy or convenient. We have children because we are so completely in love with each other and the kids we have and we want to have more. We have children because we believe that one of the nicest things you can do for your kids is to give them siblings.

We have children because we trust His will. We trust that as we grope through the darkness we will find His hand. He will lead us to the light. We will come to know Him better as we learn to love and care for the precious souls He entrusts to our care.

The decision to have a child is a decision to be stretched—physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It is a decision to grow. But the child is His and He will walk with us. And we will need Him.  

Thank You

Last week we attended a family dinner for Cameron's grandpa's 90th birthday. It would be hard to describe in a blog post how much Grandpa has meant to me through the years. He lost his eyesight to macular degeneration almost 20 years ago, but he still plays the organ, performs regularly for Toastmasters, works at the temple, and gets around just fine with his seeing-eye dog, Hudson. When I lost my eye I looked to him more than once for perspective and encouragement as I grieved my own loss of sight and found peace in my new normal. He still inspires me to believe that if I one day have less sight than I do now, life will still be OK.

Grandpa, Grandma, and Hudson

After his birthday dinner everyone sat around the table asking him to retell favorite stories from his life. This time I found the most comfort from the time when he was six years old, got in a neighborhood fight, knocked a kid unconscious with a 2x4, and ended up in juvenile court. Ahh, I thought, if someone as wonderful as Grandpa had such a rough start, there's hope even for my kids (who thankfully haven't knocked anyone unconscious or gone to juvenile court).

Then I thought about how much everyone in our family adores Grandpa and loves his stories and needs to  hear about his life and be uplifted by his example. I thought about how much we all need each other in life--the stories, encouragement, and experiences people share can lift us and lighten our paths. We need each other.

And then I thought about how much I have needed and appreciated through the years the readers of this blog. Each one of your lives has touched mine in some way, and I am grateful for the richness of people's experiences and examples that I can learn from. Thank you.