A Letter to Owen

Hey there, sweet baby.

...My sweet baby boy.

A couple of weeks ago, your Daddy, big sister and I got to hear your heartbeat. It was one of the best moments of my life, and when the midwife let Addi help find your heart, my own heart exploded. You are healthy and you sound wonderful.

And three days ago, your Daddy and I walked excitedly into a little room, where we watched you move and kick and yawn, on a screen. We learned that you are a boy. A boy. My son. I always knew you were. You are going to fit so perfectly into our little family, you already do. We cannot wait to learn how to raise up a little man. I am so excited to kiss you and hold you close.

We also learned something else.

You have two kidneys in your sweet, tiny body. One of those kidneys is very healthy and strong, but the other kidney is not. It has a lot of cysts on it, and those cysts make it very hard for it to do its job for your body.

Since we learned this, we have been praying and begging God all day long, every single day, to heal your sweet kidney. To protect your healthy one from cysts. And to bring you into our arms safely, full of life and health and love.

Fill us up with Love, God.

They want to check on you often, my little love. They say there's a chance that you'll live a normal life. They say there's a chance you might not. They say.

But, I know the One who created you.

The Creator of the earth and Heavens, Redwood trees and Mosquitos, humans and oceans. King of Justice and Lord of Mercy... I know Him. And HE SAYS that you belong to Him.

And you know what, sweet boy?

He made you. He formed you, gently inside my body. He breathed life and movement into your arms, legs and head. He thought of you even before He made the trees and the animals. He picked you, before people walked around and before buildings were built. He knows you, Owen.

Daddy and I have waited for you and have loved you since before we got married, before Addi was born, and before we knew you are a boy. We picture you, tiny and wrinkly, with big cheeks and no hair, sleeping on my chest. We picture you crawling across the floor, getting into your sisters toys. We picture you learning to read and write and to love others well. We picture you making friends, taking young ladies out on dates, and meeting your wife. We picture you, wise and determined, leading others gently and with passion toward The Lord. Loving them wholeheartedly, sacrificing your needs for the needs of others.

Oh, my little boy.

One of your kidneys is sick. But we know the Healer. The Protector and the Savior. The God of Miracles. We are calling on Him to heal you, to protect you, to give you life and life in its fullness. To show His power and strength over this world and the darkness of it.

We've got a pretty great feeling about your Story, baby boy.

Your Daddy and I chose your name four years ago. And guess what??

Your first name means "Young Fighter".

Your middle name "strong man, brave."

Like I said, God knew you, before you were formed. He is good.

I love you, Owen Andrew.

In the deepest part of my soul, I love you and I desperately want you.

Love, 

Mama

"... But this I call to mind, and

therefore I have HOPE: Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed,

for His compassions never faill.

They are new every morning;

Great is Your faithfulness."

Lamentations 3:21-23

A sweet Daddy

I have watched you as a crazy teenager.

I have watched you as an early adult.

I have watched you learn to be a husband.

And I am watching you be an incredible Daddy. There is nothing you wouldn't do for our babies, I am sure of it. I am overwhelmed, knowing that I get to be the girl watching you love them fiercly.

Thank you for never giving up on us, and always praying over us.

We adore you. Happy Fathers Day.

Love, 

Your girls, and sweet baby #2.

Enough

Life, circumstances and even people get me feeling as though I am worthless.

Not worth the time, not worth the good fortune, not worth helping, and not worth investing into.

And it hurts, very deeply.

It strikes a wound so far into my heart that I almost forgot it was there.

Except for I never forgot.

And in these times, the wound splits open, pouring out its infectious and debilitating truths...

"You are not enough. You're not worth it."

And I listen. And I cry. And I believe the lies that are being viciously thrown at me like daggers in a battle.

The words fly deep into me, and bounce around, trying to find a place in my heart to bury themselves deeply.

Softly and tenderly, Jesus is whispering to me. "Don't you listen. Don't you think on that. It isn't true, beloved. Can't you see? I died for you because you are enough. You are enough. Oh, you are enough."

A man I have never met, willingly gave himself up for me, before I was formed in my mother's womb. A man who did not deserve to die, a man who did not want to die. A man who was and forever will be the only person who truly is ENOUGH. But He was thinking of me, as his beating heart slowed. His Love was an effort to prove that I am good enough for Him.

If my heart was worth dying for,

than my heart is worth fighting for.

"the people living in darkness have seen a great light; on those living in the land of the shadow of death a light has dawned.” Matthew 4:16

12 months of Addison Reid

Oh, Addi... my Birdie.
We have learned so much this year! It's been my honor to kiss you every single day for an entire year. What a blessing you have been to your Daddy and I. Without the joy that you bring us, our hearts and our days are would not be so full, they would not be completely overflowing with our love for you. You are perfect for us, baby. I have made my fair share of 'mommy mistakes' in this year, but your caring heart has shown me forgiveness and love each and every time, without question. I want to be like that. I learn from you, sweetheart, the most valuable and truest lessons about love, kindness, happiness and about Jesus.

Sometimes, I look at you and I can see a glimpse of who you will be when you are grown. I see a goofy toddler with blonde pigtails, picking flowers and running through the grass after a bunny. I see a little girl, sitting on her bed, surrounded by all of her favorite stuffed animals, baby dolls and books, and she is quietly reading to herself. I see a ten year old, helping her Daddy pack up the truck with tents, fishing  poles, lanterns and marshmallows, so excited and giddy for their annual Daddy-Daughter camping trip special time together. I see a leader in our household, an example for her younger siblings, a word of encouragement and a hug of true love when they need it. I see a spunky pre-teen singing and dancing around while she experiments in the kitchen, learning and practicing traditions, recipes and responsibility. I see a gorgeous teenager, helping others, falling in love, and a hurting heart. I see a twinkle in her eye and joy leaking from her skin as she walks, wearing a diamond on her left hand, and dreams in her heart.

Looking at you, my heart starts soaring and tears flood my eyes.

I don't have the words.

You are kind, loving, determined, sensitive, funny, mischievous, sweet and curious. You made me a Mama, and life will never be the same. I am so excited to watch you grow even more.

I love you, Addison Reid.

Mama

Joy in the morning, Joy through the night.

My daughter will be one year old in exactly two weeks.

And she doesn't sleep through the night.

Yes, that's right. Every single night for the past year, I have been awake multiple times. Nursing, rocking, singing, patting her bottom, nursing again, shhhh-ing, changing diapers, kissing, nursing.

And praying.

Praying over this sweet soul laying in my arms. Praying to feel rested when the sun finally rises and my day begins. Praying for a kind a joyful heart. Praying that, maybe tomorrow night, she'll sleep through the night.

But that last prayer is a selfish one.

Who am I to assume that "she should be old enough..." that "she really doesn't need anything this late" or that "it's just a bad habit"??

Why do I put my own words and needs into a little girl who can't communicate her needs, fears, desires and emotions all by herself?

Because I am selfish.

I want to feel well-rested. I want to be energized and positive. I want to look awake and fresh and pretty. I want to sleep, really truly sleep so hard and not be bothered until I wake up, on my own.

I read books and I talk to other Mama's with babies who are significantly younger than Addi, sleeping through the night, or who only wake once to nurse.

...And I get jealous, real fast. I get bitter and my heart starts complaining. I start wishing for something that somebody else has.

Oh, I am a sinner.

A middle-of-the-night-resentful-sinner.

And I need Jesus.

I need Him when I lay down at night, looking at the clock and knowing that I will be awake in just a few hours.

I need Him when I am waken up by the cry of a child. A child that He loves even more than I do.

I need Him as I nurse and rock, nurse and rock, and when the familiar complaining starts in my head.

I need Him when satan starts speaking to my heart. Speaking ungratefulness, speaking selfishness, speaking lies.

I need Him when the sun rises and the birds are singing His praise, but I am not.

I need Him every moment of the day, when I fight to bite my tongue of my initial thoughts, because of my grumpiness.

I need Him when I speak to my husband, and as I try to teach Love and Peace to my daughter.

No, I don't get the sleep that I need, and I honestly don't know when or if there will be a night that I do. But I choose not to focus on that.

I will focus on the precious gift that I have been given. Sweet moments alone with a baby whom I do not deserve. A baby who needs her Mama.

And yes, I will mess up and become selfish once more. But I have Jesus.

He brings Joy in the morning.

Joy through my tired eyes, and Joy through this tiny soul sleeping next to me.

 

Just a couple pictures

It's the middle of the night and we are driving back to Tennessee after a crazy few weeks. I haven't blogged in ages but I feel like if I don't document life in some way, I may just forget. Days are getting quicker and they aren't looking to slow down any. Addi and I were able to join Matthias on his acoustic tour, playing shows in Alabama and Michigan.

It was an exciting, precious and humbling trip. I'm working on processing it all in my heart, and then once I do, I will write about it on this little space.

But for now, here's a million pictures.

You're invited to a scroll party.

Thanks for coming.

That's an obnoxious amount of pictures.