Tender Moments

I've been feeling very tender about Samantha lately.  I'm not sure why, necessarily.  Maybe because she's growing so quickly all of a sudden.  Or because we just ordered a stroller for her -- that costs a few thousand dollars (more on that later).  Or maybe because lately, I've just been in awe at her beautiful smile.  She smiles so big.  And it makes me melt.

Tonight, we watched a movie.  Sammy came over, climbed up on my lap, curled up, and fell asleep.  I didn't want to let her go.  And so, I held her for a long time before I put her to bed.  It was just me with my right arm around Callie, and Sammy sitting on my lap.  I felt as if I were surrounded by angels...not just the 2 sitting with me.

Though I feel like I truly am "ok" with her life -- her disabilities and the struggles that she and we face because of them -- I have recently been thinking a lot of "what if."  I really wonder who she would be if she had been born without a faulty mortal body.  Quite frankly, I think she'd be a pill!  But she'd still be tender and loving and ... probably the same way she is now in many respects.  I've struggled a lot with some of these feelings I've had, and I can easily ignore them because I am working on other projects that distract me.    And then, there are nights like tonight, when the house is quiet, it's just us, and her spirit and mine connect...peacefully.  And I'm reminded of what a blessing she is in my life.  And I forget about the what ifs.  Because she's mine and my life is more full because she's in it.

I was reminded of this song.  I've shared it before.  And I guess I wanted to torture myself and cry like a baby, so I listened to it again.  I love it.

Favorite

While we were in Michigan, we had some family pictures done...and this picture just melts my heart.  I think it's my favorite of the entire day.

Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Dear Samantha,

You make me melt.  You do the smallest, simplest thing, and I'm in tears because I feel my heart overflow with joy. 

You have a cold.  And colds are hard because you can't blow your nose.  You can't clear things out yourself.  You just kind of suffer through it, all stuffed up.  I mean, you've suffered through worse, but I think we all agree that colds are annoying.  Today Jacqueline came from the newspaper and took some pictures of you for the upcoming article.  You weren't particularly happy, but you weren't sad.  Oh how I wanted you to shine so everyone who saw you in the paper would feel your spirit through those eyes of yours.  But, you're a little foggy with this cold and...that's ok.  You were perfectly chipper 2 hours after Jacqueline left.  I wished she could have been there then.  The rest of the day you were perfectly pleasant.

Usually you go to bed quite well, but tonight, about 45 minutes after you were in bed, I heard you singing.  Well, you aren't really singing, but that's what we call it.  Grammy calls them whale calls.  I went in, you smiled so big when you saw me.  We went through the routine of the saline nasal drops and Eucerin around the face (you get so chapped when you have colds), and you just smiled at me and locked eyes with mine like I was the most magical, fantastic, perfect being in the world.  And you know what?  I felt like I was.  You made me feel like I was pretty wonderful.

I turned off the lights, and you put your head on my shoulder.  That's when the tears filled my eyes and gently flowed over onto my cheeks.  You have never put your head on my shoulder before, and it was...so simple, but so beautiful.  You normally just curl up into a tight ball against my chest, but this time, it was a perfect way to end my evening.  You fell asleep almost instantly and after a few moments I laid you down.

I'm not sure what it was about you laying your head on my shoulder.  Partly, it was so normal...and not many things about your life are considered "normal."  But, I think it has a lot to do with the love you shared with me only moments before -- that look of adoration -- and then to just lay your head on my shoulder...that absolute trust, maybe.  Again, I'm not sure why that moment was so dear to me, but it was. 

And it's a moment I hope to never forget.

I Know

Samantha,

There are some days when I am so sad that you can't just tell me what you want, need, or think. It's not so much because there's this inner-aching within me to hear your voice...though that is there definitely, but because I simply want to know. I want to know what you're thinking. I want to hear everything you have to say. And yes, I'd love to hear your tiny voice tell me the things all moms want to hear...that you love me. I melt every time Callie tells me, so I'm pretty sure you, Sammy, saying it would have equal effect. Today you spontaneously kissed me for the first time in a VERY long time -- though you freely give kisses to Colin! -- and it made my day by the way.

My friend sent me the Meaghan Smith cd. There's no secret, I'm totally loving this girl. I love her style, her awesome voice, and you and Callie love dancing to "Heartbroken"...but when I got to the song "I Know" I immediately thought of you and all of my favorite scenes from your life passed through my mind. I know this is a love song, but I'm so in love with you -- my tiny little girl. And whether you can vocalize it or not, I'm pretty sure that I know you love me too. And I'm pretty sure, one day you'll tell me in words. And I'm also pretty sure that every time I hear this song, for the rest of my life, I'll be thinking of you.

I love you!
Mommy

It's in our hello
In the way your smile glows
And it's in our good bye
In the tear in your eye
And all in between
When you're lookin at me

I know, I know, I know
What you don't say

It shimmers through
In the things you do
When you write me a note
And send it by the post
What you might not sign
On that bottom line

I know, I know, I know
What you don't say

Words are not needed
And though my ears
Could be misled
My heart can hear instead
What goes unsaid

You'll leave me with this
A hug and a kiss
And that little phrase
Those three words
You can't say
But please don't feel blue
Cause I always knew

And I know, I know, I know
And I love you too

Normal

Sweet Samantha,

On Wednesday you attended Scribbles and Giggles for the first time. They called me about 45 minutes after you had been there and said you had a fever. I rushed over to pick you up...and you know what? You were happy and giggly and looked just delighted to see me. Yes, you have a way of making a mommy feel ultra-important. The rest of the day at home, you were a gem -- so I figured you had gotten into your tricky ways and somehow managed to make the thermometer read wrong so you could play hookie and hang with me the rest of the day.

Thursday, off to school you went -- and had a great day.

Friday, no school. You have one month break. We played, opened and shut doors -- oh wait, I already said we played, and you were fine. Until, last night.

At midnight you woke up and were upset. Daddy went in and calmed you down. You fell back to sleep. Then at about 4 am, I heard you cry. You weren't screaming, which is what you normally do...your own way of letting me know "I want out of here and I want MOMMY told hold meeeee!" You were more complainy. So, I jumped out of bed and went to the room. You naturally woke Callie up and when she saw me come in, she was very distressed about the entire situation. I picked you up and sat in the room with both you and Callie. You were burning up. You had a fever of 102 -- and I actually think it was a little higher than that, but I didn't get a really good reading since you weren't being super cooperative about me putting the thermometer in your ear. Poor girl. You "slept" with Daddy (apparently you actually nuzzled and kicked for about 3 hours) and I went in bed with Callie and slept with her.

The rest of the day you've been pretty great. Callie has a fever now, but neither one of you have any other symptoms. You're eating well, complain as usual, smile and giggle as usual, are drinking well.

I've recently started working on a project and it's made me think a lot about how different our life is from everyone else's around me. It hasn't made me feel bad or anything -- an observation more than anything. Back in the early days of microcephaly, seizures, hospitalizations, therapies, the global "special needs," I often felt like no one around me understood. I felt so alone, so different. I do recognize that our life is much different than many others. Today though, we were playing on the deck, and as you were stumbling around, trying to pick up and throw Callie's bike to and fro, I thought about how "normal" our life really is -- how we really are just like every other family out there.

We have two beautiful daughters.

You both love us.

We love you both with everything we have in us.

We do everything we can to fulfill both of your needs.

Both of your needs are vastly different.

You get sick.

You get fevers.

You bring us joy.

It goes on and on. And I could certainly write some sentences after each of those statements as fillers -- explaining how our life is different from other families, because it is -- but really, when it comes down to it...we aren't all that different are we? We're pretty normal. And today, I really felt it. In a way, this realization was a tender mercy from the Lord. I think I needed it, and I know He knew it.

I love you so much. I hope you get that. I hope you understand how deeply I feel about you. You are beautiful, clever, and perfectly amazing in every way. You are the sunshine in our life. You, and Callie both, have made my life more complete.

I love you to pieces -- and I love all your pieces.
Mommy