All posts tagged: letter

Letter: Being Two

Good morning, Little Person. If there comes a day when I’m not with you and I can’t be your Mama on earth, I hope you’ll read these letters. I hope you’ll see wisdom and your Mama’s silly ways; I hope you’ll hear Truth and Love and Grace; I hope you’ll feel loved and understood and feel connected, even if we can’t be for some reason. I hope you’ll laugh and maybe even call me ridiculous 😉 For today I’m with you and you’re two, and I’d like for you to know now that you’re old enough to read this- sometimes I don’t like it when you’re two. Lord have mercy. (I repeat that phrase often throughout the day, because I’m serious- we need mercy.) I’m up in the nursery feeding your brother who’s seven months and you’re downstairs listening to an audio book. I can hear the bang of wood against wood as you keep pushing yourself away from the kitchen table while strapped into your high chair since you’re supposed to be eating breakfast …

Happy Birthday, Sugar

Oh, Sugar. Oh, Honey-Bunches-of-Oats. You’ve been the cream in my coffee all year long. What a delightful year it was. Your one year birthday celebration was a smash hit with about 60 people here to commemorate your special life and to rejoice in God’s good gifts to this family. All are smitten with you- your infectious smile and almond shaped eyes and thick eyebrows and rosy cheeks and endearing little voice. At your birthday last year you were just a crawler and the “Nap Queen,” so your jammies say. Truly, you were delightful every day with your amiable disposition, fascination with the world around you, satisfied little laugh, and seemingly perceptive sense of humor. After your birthday bash, you and I had a quiet month of September at home, attending story hour at the library, baking goodies, making friends. Then we had a whirlwind of October on our trip to Aunti Gina’s in Newport Beach followed by a two week separation for the anniversary HI trip when you stayed home with GaGa & Mongie (as …

Dear :: Son

Happy due date, Dear Son. You’ve been given it to your Mama easy, Bud, and I gotta thank you for it. You’re my first “normal” baby- your sisters both had traumatic events, whether leaving or entering, and so far with you it’s been a nice flow and fairly predictable. You’re a quiet little fella who doesn’t cry much or for long and you seem pretty content hanging by yourself when you need to. It’s probably tougher being an infant than most of us think, considering you can’t do anything for yourself. I imagine that when you fuss and hear me whisper in your ear, “It’s okay, Bud. Mama’s got you” that you relax and know you’re cared for; I imagine that when I scoop you up and hold you close that you feel safe and understood; I imagine that when I wipe your bum and then finish the job with kisses on your cheeks and gentle words that you know all is done in love and that the unpleasant things aren’t a threat; I imagine …

Look Out :: Heidi Lee

Heidigirl, I bet you’ll be my best pregnancy and my best birth. I was at my best when I carried you and when I brought you into this world. Do you remember all the things we did and all the moments we shared? Do you remember being born at lightning speed? I want to relive the memories with you, Heidi Lee, so you wanna look at some pictures with me? Your Daddy and I were SHOCKED- to put it mildly- that we were having a baby. We wanted to keep the announcement on the DL, so we waited till you’d been around for 16 weeks, and then we had these pictures taken on Memorial Day weekend (by the ever talented Abby Vencil & Emma Potter- they both got to meet you when you were born, remember?). Good ol’ Luke- he was getting worn out from a life well lived, but he kept himself going till you came along. And good little Molle…. I’m sure you remember all the crazy loud, ridiculously wacky moments I had with …

Kiddo :: Diddo

Dear Little Hiccup, I never thought I’d be able to say again “You are my sunshine” after your sister Heidi passed away. I never thought I’d share her clothes, her toys, her quilts, her rocking chair with another baby. I just figured my heart wasn’t big enough and that God wasn’t going to give us another child. I want you to know that even though your Daddy and I miss your big sister a ton, we don’t love you less than we love her and we don’t love you more than we love her. We love you because God gave us you. We love you because you’re you. We love you because you are precious, because you have an eternal soul. You keep your Mama laughing, KiddoDiddo. You give me reason to live. You make me want to try harder. You make me want to keep living. You make me want to be the best I can be. You make me want to love deeper and sweeter. Wherever you go in life, keep doing that, …

To: My Firstborn

Dearest Firstborn Child, Hello from down here. I think of you all the time, dearest Heidi Lee. I know you already know that. Somehow it just feels right writing to you. I guess we won’t have those earthly mama-daughter conversations, but I’ll write you earthly letters to keep you in the loop, and then we’ll talk forever in person in that sacred place. You know, your little sister’s life makes me grieve your life all the more. When she cries for me, I remember what it sounded like when you cried; when she rolls over, I realize I never got to see you learn that; when she feels my face while nursing, I remember you clutching my shirt while you nursed; when she sleeps soundly through the night, I remember the horror of waking up to find you not with me; when she smiles, I wonder what your smile would have been. I wonder so many things. You know what else I wonder? I wonder why this is my pain. I wonder why you and …

To: Little Person

Dear Sweet Little Person, That’s what I call you most of the time. Little Person. It just seems to suit you. You sure are adorable. I look forward to starting every day with you, to dressing you in fashionable little outfits, to nursing you, laughing with you, dancing with you, getting you up from a nap. You smile all day long, it seems, and even when I’ve been out of sorts about something you’re still happy. What a blessing you have been to your grieving parents. We didn’t know we needed you, but God knew we needed you. I often wonder who you will be and what you will show me about life. I’m almost certain you’ll be a charmer and flirter (much to your father’s chagrin! 😉 ). I have so many ideas of things you could do and things you might love. Will you love playing with dolls like I did? Would you enjoy doing martial arts? What about horse-back riding (we really want you take lessons!)? Will you care for every fuzzy …