A Letter to My Babies

My sweet babies,

There's something that shifted in me the moment I became a mama. With the first positive pregnancy test and all of the whirlwind that's been since that day, I cannot remember who I was before, except that I was who I am now... just different. Without you.

It's the end of January and I'm continually at the edge of my capacity. Some days feeling as though I conquered the world by naptime, and other days barely making it through the next ten minutes before another snack. For me too.

I'm ready for it to be springtime, warm weather and sunshine - rain days included. There's something so special about it. A new life.

But there's been a beauty in the winter for me, too, the past three years. Winter has often brought with it new life. A new reminder in the midst of the death/hibernation of life outside that God really is doing a new thing, even if I can't yet see it.

You're each so unique, and special. My babies. Different personalities. Different life circumstances. Different needs and different ways of receiving and giving love. But my heart continues to stretch and grow. My love for you is all overflowing. I cannot seem to find its end. Collectively, and individually. But since you're your own people, I wanted to take a minute and write a note to you each.

My Jacob,

My sweet boy. The one who will always make me a mom of a baby. I don't know how time works in eternity, if you're growing older, if you'll aways be 5lb 13oz of pure cheeks. But in my memory and in my arms, you're my baby. The feeling of you on my chest is just the same as it was almost three years ago, the day we first laid eyes on you and held you in our arms. I can hardly believe it was almost three years ago when I first held, and last held, your sweet body in my arms. Your life launched me into a motherhood that I never imagined but that I can never imagine being me without. You made me brave. You made me more me. You showed me how to love, you taught me how to lose, and you bring joy unimaginable, even now. I love you, my sweet boy. You are so special.

My E baby,

My second born. My little girl. You know I'm crazy about you and your cheeks, too. I kiss them non-stop. You are no longer that newborn in my arms and yet you still fit perfectly in them nonetheless. My prayers for your life were answered in a way that far surpassed my imagination. Lord, let this baby be full of life, I would ask. And you are. FULL of life. You bring smiles to the faces of anyone you meet. You are spunky and fun, but sweet and snuggly too. I never know what's coming next with you, and I love it. You've shaped me as a mother - you've taught me that I can survive on no sleep, that I can somehow still choose to put your needs first even when I have nothing left to give, that there's always room for one more hug and about a hundred more wet kisses. You're my favorite mini companion these days, one I cannot imagine life without. I love you, my sweet girl. You are so special.

And our sweet baby #3, my August baby,

Oh, what a joy your life is already. Not shallow happiness that comes without anything hard - there's that stuff, too. But joy. You're living and you're growing and your heart is beating. I nearly pinch myself when I remember that I'm about to become a mom of three babies (Lord-willing) I get to hold in my arms. I no longer question if I can love another child like I loved my first - I know that my love grows and there will be more than enough for you, too. I wonder if my energy level does that, too, but I know that's wishful thinking. You're teaching me that I can trust God with the really hard things, that life moves too fast to forget what really matters, and that your daddy loves me and your siblings more than you could ever know. He repeatedly lays his life down for us. You're growing our family so much bigger than I once thought possible. You're breathing hope and life into my soul, even as I acknowledge the risks. I love you, my sweet Baby 3. You are so special.

There's a change that happens inside parents' hearts when they've experienced great loss. A diminishing innocence that appears to rob their joy from the everyday moments. I'm coming to terms with the reality of that tension. And I'm actually okay with it. Fearing and wrestling; grieving and questioning - those things don't mean that I'm not actually joyful or excited for what's to come. It just means I'm honest.

And for this time around, as we hold our hands open to what's to come, the future and the unknowns and the wonderings of if we'll be once more handing another baby over into the arms of Jesus far sooner than we ever want to, we see that there's still goodness in the life that we have here. That even in the pain and in the ache, there's a steadiness of our souls, anchoring us to truth, and to hope.

It has nothing to do with who we are or what we think, feel, say, or do. It has everything to do with the One to whom we look. He's the One who is steadfast and in Him we can put our trust.

So, my sweet babies. I want you to know. When I sing over you phrases like When peace like a river and when sorrows like sea billows roll... when I pray things like for you to know that you're loved just because you're His... when I weep from my aches and then turn to you with a smile - it's because I know that I'm waiting. We're all waiting. For the day when all the sad things become untrue. And for now, in the waiting, there's One who is steady, who is anchoring our souls.

He has made me a mother. To babies in Heaven. To a baby in my arms. And to a baby on the way. Three times over I trust I'll get to kiss the cheeks of one He's entrusted to me. That's you. You're my babies. I love you. You are so special.

With all my love,

your mom

photographs above, in order of appearance, by: Social Squares, Lindsay Fauver Photography, Alisha Marie Photography, my own iphone & Lindsay Fauver Photography