the first snow.

It started yesterday. The first flurries waited until we awoke to grace the sky with their presence. I saw them through the kitchen window and gave a little hoot. The first snow of the season always seems magical to me. It is incredible that the vast grey sky remembers how to make those fat fluffy flakes after such a long stint of blue blue blue and sun. We ventured out for a quick errand with friends, and snapped a photo on the way back to our car- Everett's first snow! 

Today, we stayed snuggled inside with our sniffly noses, and cuddled under blankets with warm drinks... while the great sky sifted more and more and more powdered sugar down to earth. There was something mesmerizing about watching the soft, constant drift of snowflakes. Looking up, it's impossible to tell where they originate. I squinted my eyes, trying to track the flakes that magically form in invisible mist and appear at an indistinguishable place in the air. It strikes me as incredible that something so tiny can accumulate over time into large piles and knee-deep oceans. The bushes bent to the ground, heavy. Trees were lined with impossibly balanced frosting. Roofs became coated with thick layers of puff. Icicles formed and drip drip dripped down to the deck.

I told Everett all about the white stuff- how it's part of the water cycle, and all of the fun things we can do to play in it when he's a little bigger. And how, like much of awe-inspiring nature, it is full of beauty and danger. I love seeing him explore our world and learn every day. Everything is brand new in his eyes. I am blessed to be a witness to his discoveries. 

Dearest Everett- the early days

Dearest Everett,

The early days at home with you were the hardest, most wonderful weeks of my life. My body hurt all over, but my heart was so full. There were so many sweet moments in our home, made holy by your innocence. You were the most precious package from heaven, just unwrapped. I felt such great privilege to welcome you into our family. The immense gratitude we felt at your presence carried us through the sleep deprivation and pain. It's so difficult to put into words the dizzy feeling of those first days with you.

Your daddy helped me around the clock. He was immediately protective of you, and worried over the both of us constantly. I was so grateful for the help of visitors and friends, including Gramma Krissy, Natalie and her boys. Especially your Grammy Leslie, who stayed with us for many weeks. We spent many hours on the couch nursing. Most times we were just a big milky mess, you and me! Our living room has big windows and you loved to look at the light, or maybe at the trees or the sky, or just the sunshine coming through the curtains.

There were so many firsts in those days. Your first time sleeping in a bassinet, or a swing (instead of our arms). Your first time getting a sponge bath in your room. Your first time meeting our dog, Colby. Your first walk in the stroller, and being carried in a sling. You even got a surprise visit from your Aunt Natalie and your cousins from Georgia! Little Joshua liked to sing to you whenever you would fuss or cry.

We just thought you were the cutest baby we had ever seen. We were excited to do things with you that we had done while you were in the womb, like reading you books and singing you lullabies.  (Your daddy read you "Goodnight Moon" at 2am to try to calm you down when you were about 3 days old. And I would sing you special songs that I sang while I was pregnant- like "Till there was you" by Meredith Willson, or primary songs.) You loved when I would stroke your eyebrow with my fingertip; you'd close your eyes and drift away with your lips in a little 'o' shape and your hand wrapped around my finger.

You loved to be swaddled tight, but you'd kick out of blankets, so we had to get specials sacks with velcro. You looked like a baby burrito all the time. You slept in a little bassinet by the side of my bed. You'd awake to nurse with sweet little 'uh uh' grunting sounds. I was amazed at how eager I was to see you after only a couple of short hours of blessed sleep. I longed to look at you, and reassure myself that this was real.

I adored your little body that was so new and so pure.  I didn't want anything scratchy to touch your velvety smooth skin. I was not ready for you to experience anything horrible about the world! We were careful to wash all of your clothing and blankets, and moved you ever so gently while changing your clothes. I would sing you silly songs like "baby beluga" and "the hokey pokey".

I remember one night, your daddy held you in the rocking chair and you slept for four hours. That was a very long stretch of sleep for me. I remember waking up hearing him come in the room, and I was surprised and amazed as I remembered that I had a baby! Our baby was here! What a beautiful surprise! It was a silly little moment, but my heart rose up and swelled in my chest as I took your fragile little body in my arms and nuzzled your neck softly.

At the hospital, a photographer came and took some photos of you. When we got the digital images that first week at home, they were in a slideshow with a beautiful song- Amy Stroup's "Just You". And I sat on the couch and watched that video several times and just sobbed. I was overwhelmed with emotion and so very humbled by your beautiful spirit.

Your first outing was to the pediatrician's office. You were so calm and so brave. Your doctor was gentle but efficient and checked you over with the skill of practiced hands. Everyone commented on your big, alert eyes and your sweet disposition.

When you were 3 weeks old, Grammy and I went out to lunch with some friends. I was so nervous about taking you anywhere. I worried that you would cry (you screamed in your carseat the whole way there) or be too cold ( held you wrapped in a blanket and ate one-handed) or that I wouldn't know how to nurse you in public (you slept through the whole affair and didn't eat until we got home). After that, I learned to take you everywhere, usually in a sling or wrap, like a snuggly little baby ball. People would see your tiny head and smile or ask how old you were. I was such a proud mama.

The first time I fed you away from home, we were at one of my favorite restaurants. I felt too uncoordinated to nurse you there, so your Aunt Natalie came with me out to the car to keep me company and be an extra set of hands, which I so appreciated. When you started stirring, I had only just started on my big salad. It looked so delicious! Even in that moment, I remember feeling amazed at the instantaneous change. So this is it, huh? It was as if a switch inside of me was flipped. Any desire I had to sit there and eat that beautiful meal was replaced by what I can only guess is described as intense 'motherly love'. I easily and naturally dropped everything and made sure your needs were cared for. It was such a simple thing, skipping out on a salad. Compared to the sacrifices it took to get you here, and the physical struggle and exhaustion of nourishing you up until that point, this was nothing. I don't know why my heart chose that instant to recognize it. Yet I felt the impact of the choice- like I knew that I would leap tall buildings in a single bound for you.

I wanted to always be close to you. From the moment I found out you were growing in my womb, I felt your presence with me always for those 10 months of pregnancy. I would talk to you or rub my belly and try to send you good vibes. When you were born, I didn't want you to leave the safety and security of my arms. I felt a longing for you, if you were in the next room or just down the hall in your bassinet. The first time I left you was to go to an interview at the church building. I was only gone for about 30 minutes. I felt so empty driving away from you. It was the first time I had been truly alone in almost a year. That ache surprised me. I hope you will always stay close. You'll always be my baby.

-xo
love always, your mama.

Dearest Everett- the hospital.

Dearest Everett,

After the long work of labor, a somewhat scary delivery, and the joy at your birth, we were all exhausted. After we were all taken care of, they put me in a wheelchair and I held you in a warm blanket as we rolled from delivery to the recovery wing. I felt like an absolute queen holding you, my precious boy, and we made the journey down the hallway with a giant, tired smile plastered to my puffy face.

We spent the next few days in the hospital. It was a busy place. Many people came to check on you. You were a champion! You had to learn so much about the world. You experienced breathing and eating, lights and loud noises and diapers and clothes and crying. We worked together on nursing. You were so sleepy that your daddy had to wiggle your arms and rub your head to help you stay alert and eating.

You endured tests and pokes and temperature checks, and your wonderful doc said that you were healthy and strong. What a blessing that was. No one could believe that you were 9 lbs at birth! You were long and skinny. And everyone said you looked just like your daddy. We could have taken you home sooner, but my doctor wanted me to stay an extra day for monitoring. We came with you to watch your first bath at the nurses station. They kept you under nice warm lamps and worked slowly and gently.

We had to keep track of your feeds, pee and poop on a little white board for the nurses. They offered to take you for a while to let us sleep, but I didn't want you out of my sight. Only once did they take you away for a test they couldn't perform in the room, and I remember inspecting your tiny fingernails when they brought you back to our room, because I knew it was you by the way they were shaped-just like your daddy's. Strange, but true.

I felt a vague emptiness in my abdomen, and though you were no longer tethered to me, I felt we should be connected. You belonged with me. I kept thinking that you had only ever known being close to me and hearing my heartbeat and feeling my warmth. I couldn't even bear to swaddle you and put you in the bassinet beside our bed. So I kept you skin to skin on my chest almost 24/7. I would sleep lightly for a while and then wake up to just stare at your tiny chest rising and falling and listen to the high squeaky sounds you made.

Your daddy and I were so in awe at your perfection. We had a queen sized hospital bed, and your daddy stayed with us the whole time. He changed all of your diapers because it was very difficult for me to shift positions. He never left my side. He was my strength. He was so great at calming you and knew just how to hold you. You liked to suck on his pinky finger. Seeing him with you made my heart swell to bursting. I had always imagined our sweet child in his strong arms. He was a wonderful father from the start.

I remember laying awake thinking and praying about your name. We were fairly sure about our choice but wanted to make sure before we officially told anyone. Your Grammy Leslie, Grandpa Terry and Gramma Krissy came to visit and brought gifts for you. They were all so excited to see and hold you, our little angel boy.

Those days are a blur in my mind of hushed moments and dim lighting and pain and healing and you. YOU! You were finally there in my arms. I could see you and touch you. Your slow-motion finger grasp and your jerky movements and your soft skin. I traced your features with my fingertip over and over. And your eyes. Your eyes were bright from the beginning. You'd stare into mine and it seemed you wanted to tell me something terribly important about heaven. Your eyes are deep with the wisdom and intelligence of an ancient soul.

On your coming home day, we dressed you carefully and put you in the car seat which seemed to swallow you up. I thought it was incredible that you were actually our child and they were going to let us take you home! Grammy and your daddy loaded up the car and then we walked out of the hospital to show you the world. I sat by you on the drive home and I think I've never seen your daddy drive so slowly.

I am so blessed to be your mama. Thank you for coming to our family.
I love you.
-xo

Dearest Everett- Waiting

Dearest Everett,

One day, I took a warm bath. Gazing with gratitude and awe at my belly protruding from the water, I couldn't help but contrast the peace I felt with the anxiety of the previous Spring, when I had sat in that same tub, looked down at those same toes, and cried...My tears mixing with the soapy water and my heart aching for you. And in at that moment, I wished that I could send a letter back in time, filled with hope and warmth for that 'last-year-me'. Because you were RIGHT THERE. And I placed my hands over you and took a deep breath.

As your due date approached (March 30th), I wrapped things up at work and said my farewells, a twinge of sadness in my heart to leave the job I loved, but an enormous feeling of excitement and anticipation for your arrival. And relief! It flooded over me like a rush of water after spring rains. I looked forward to getting more rest, and to finally focus 100% of my energy on you.

Your Grammy Leslie flew all the way from Kuwait about 3 weeks before, and set up shop in our guest room to wait for your arrival. I truly cherished our time together. We had so much fun setting up your room, shopping for last minute items, and putting the finishing touches on your closet. As the days kept coming and you kept staying, we found other things to occupy our time.

We watched movies, played games, and went out to eat. We read books, completed crafts and went to the YMCA. We took dance classes and floated in water aerobics, and walked on the treadmills. Once, we went to a hip hop class, and I laughed out loud wondering what other people thought of us- a petite red-headed grandma and a pregnant girl with a huge belly, trying to cryp walk to Eminem.

Everywhere we went, people would grin and nod, or ask when I was due, or take a guess as to whether you'd be a girl or a boy. Eyes grew big as saucers, and lips parted into a sympathetic smile when I said I was due 'three days ago'.

My due date came and went. I had prepared myself for the possibility that you may take your sweet time arriving in the world, and so, each night, after prayers for you, eyeballing the hospital bags, and steeling myself for a painful awakening, I would say out loud, "well, we might have a baby tonight!". And then in the morning, it would be a new day, and you would still be cozy inside with no sign of change. And I would lumber out of bed, reach up to the sky and yawn, and say, "oh well, baby will come when baby is ready", and pasted a smile on my face. I trusted you. I had waited so long for you...what was a few more days?

Your daddy was getting anxious for your arrival. He would tell you emphatically every night- 'ok baby, we're all ready, you can come now!'. When the time came to schedule the induction at 6 days post due, we went home from that doc's appointment giddy and nervous! We went on one last date, just the two of us. We dipped goodies in chocolate fondue at the restaurant downtown, and afterwards, your daddy stood sentinel as I climbed into our car, other vehicles rushing by.  I had the fleeting thought that he would protect us like that, his little family, for the rest of our days.

I hardly slept that night. It was like Christmas Eve  x5,000. The next day we watched a bit of LDS General Conference and double and triple checked the hospital bags. And at the last minute, I kept thinking of more things to throw into the car, and wouldn't you know it, we raced to the hospital after all! If only to keep our 7:00 appointment (er, 7:15). As we left our little house, I knew that the next time I entered its walls, I would be a mother. We would have a baby. YOU would be with us.
I couldn't wait to meet you. To know you. To love you even more. The waiting was over.

-xoxo
love always, your mama