I had an incredible run today. It was incredible not because of the dirt roads or the farmland, not because of the breathtaking views or scenic waterways, not because of the cool breeze blowing my hair or the cacophony of bird noises filling my ears. It was incredible because of the way I witnessed and relived my own story of coming into adulthood in New York City.
Today I started out at the home that my husband and I own in upper Manhattan (well, technically the bank still owns most of it), the home where we are raising our two kiddos and figuring out what it is to be a family of four, living in THE City. I headed north, passing the playground where we took Jacob the day Hannah Grace was born and the swings that I rocked gently on that morning, wondering if that day would be the day that our lives would be forever changed – again. I turned around at the lighthouse that was my first “big destination” when I started running again after Hannah Grace was born, and ran beneath “our bridge,” as our toddler calls the GW.
Heading south, I entered such familiar territory. The miles I ran during our early marriage, sometimes staring blindly out at the water, wondering what I had gotten myself into as I tried to figure out how to bend my life to meet and embrace someone else’s. The miles I ran the morning I found out we were expecting Jacob, plotting how to tell Harrison and practically sprinting the entire distance in elated joy. The miles I walked when eight months pregnant with Jacob and I could run no more, and the loops I ran with our stroller when I first started running again after he was born. Continue reading
written June 19, 2014
We are anxiously waiting to welcome your little sister into the world and our family. You are twenty months old, and a total delight – filled with tremendous energy and curiosity, you are an endless source of entertainment and laughter, and I can no longer imagine my life without you. These past twenty months have been some of the most difficult of my life, but I am thankful for you every single day, and I will always treasure this time we’ve had as a family of three.
You will probably never remember these days. You will never remember being an only child, the very center of my attention and my world (and vice versa!). Continue reading
written June 19, 2014
To my sweet daughter,
You are already so precious to me and I cannot tell you how eager I am to meet you! I have always imagined myself the mama of a daughter, and I have always wanted a little girl of my own.
Hannah Grace, your name also has a special meaning. First, your name Hannah continues and honors your daddy’s family tradition of names that begin with the letter “H.” In the Bible, Hannah is a woman of devotion and faithfulness, as well as sorrow and sacrifice, and the Hebrew setting of Hannah has the beautiful meaning of “gracious” or “graciousness” or “favor.”
As you grow older, you will learn Hannah’s story and read about how Hannah is a beautiful example of the way that unpleasant and difficult circumstances can produce a strong character that blesses the world. She suffered much because of her initial barrenness (which means that she wanted to have children of her own but couldn’t), and she cried day and night to the Lord. She trusted that He heard her prayers and knew of her sadness. Because of her godliness, devotion, trust, patience, and self-sacrifice, she was especially blessed by God, and was given a son (Samuel) who brought great glory and honor to God. Continue reading
It seems to bring out the worst in me.
To be fair, I’ve never been an especially patient person. And this waiting is particularly difficult. I’m jealous and angry and frustrated and even more impatient than usual.
BUT. The waiting has been teaching me a few things too.
The first week of waiting for our daughter’s birth as the due date approached was fun and filled with “treats.” My husband and I spent more time together during that week than possibly in the entire month beforehand (what a luxury!), Continue reading
I realize that I am officially ten months’ pregnant, with my second child (ie, I’m not especially small right now), but I still do not understand how this fact makes it acceptable for people on the street to comment on my physical appearance.
In fact, it’s driving me crazy. If one more person says something – whether it’s a sort-of-friendly Congratulations! or a more obnoxious Looks like you’re gonna pop any day!, I might punch them. To the ground.
Why do strangers feel justified in making comments on my physical appearance? Why am I so sensitive to people’s comments on my physical appearance? Continue reading