We have moved from counting time with Laurel in weeks to counting time in months. She is already three months old. I don't even know how many weeks she is any more. Three months means that I have cleaned out the little onesies that no longer fit her from her drawers. She is now fitting into things that once looked so big for her. Three months also means that she is grabbing ahold of the toys that hang above her on her play mat. She went from waving her arms and accidently bumping into the toys to intentionally grasping them. And three months means lots of smiles. I love it when she smiles--her whole face lights up.
I remember visits to a friend who was a mom of young kids when I would be home in Ohio. I would tell her of all my recent adventures, but when I asked her what was new in her life, she never seemed to have much to share. I feel like I am there, now. My days are filled with meaning. But it's not meaning that makes for great conversation (unless you are as obsessed with Laurel as I am). My adventures have to do with moving from a diaper service to washing our own cloth diapers (today's that day) and trying to figure out how to keep her hands warm at night and making a slow simmering spaghetti sauce and being reminded that time sensitive things are harder with a baby (like yesterday when I was ready to knead our bread dough right when Laurel woke up and needed to be fed). My adventures involve bussing to the grocery store and seeing how many groceries will fit in the little storage space under the stroller. Or trying to get my cereal out of the cupboard without finding a dead mouse or setting off the mouse trap. These are my days. And I love them. Even if they are melting too quickly into weeks, which are melting too quickly into months.
My friend Jen is measuring her baby boy's hours and hoping that they pile into days and weeks and months. Henry was born just over a week ago and immediately faced all kinds of complications. And so he is in the NICU. Maybe because it was just three months ago that Laurel was born or maybe it's because it makes me recognize how vulnerable our children are at this age or maybe because I care about Jen and want good things for her and her family or maybe because of all of these things and more, I find them on my heart often throughout the day. And, along with those who know and love Jen and Nate, I dare to pray big prayers. Jen has asked that we not be afraid to pray for miracles. Will you join me in praying for them? Will you join me in asking God to lavish his grace on this family in such a way that they have heaps of days and weeks and months and years of time together? Will you join me in asking God to bring little Henry through this without long term effects? We have a big God who can do big things.
