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Wednesday, July 13, 2011


Dear Charlotte Amalie,

We're all making adjustments around here. That father of yours is adjusting to being a *real* doctor (crazy, I know!). Your brother is adjusting to a new home, and new people. You are adjusting to new doctors, new nurses, and no oxygen (woohoo!)

I'm adjusting to it all, as well.

I think the thing I'm adjusting to the most is seeing you as a little girl. You're not my baby anymore. Someone once told me I was lucky, in a sense, because you would be a baby for so much longer. (Umm, thanks? Did you think that one through before you said it? No? Oh, OK...). But even though you aren't doing "toddler" things, I'm watching you slowly shift out of being a baby and into toddler land.  Your face is getting thinner, your legs are getting longer. Your belly, while still impressively large, mind you, is becoming less of a belly and more of a torso.

You are also changing in non-physical ways. You are letting me rock you to sleep, something you haven't done since the early days in the NICU. You are laughing and playing with your brother. (You're also annoying him to death. #couldyoustopthat? #willyouknowhatthismeans?) You are exploring the world in new ways; trying to crawl, picking up toys, figuring out cause and effect. I watch you and wonder.

Do you know what a miracle you are? Do you know how much you have accomplished? Do you know that I live in awe of your strength, your resolve? Do you understand how I long for the future and fear it at the same time? How am I to teach you anything? How I am to guide you, when you have already guided so many; when you have been a source of faith and hope for those around you? For me?

I wonder if you are frustrated. If you know your potential and understand that you are delayed in reaching it. I wonder if you know that your body just doesn't work the way it should all the time. I wonder if you wish things were different.

I wonder if I wish things were different.

I wonder how it is even possible that things have changed so much. So much change. You've gone to a grocery store, to church, to the pool, to Target, to Sports class with Caleb. The strangers in the isles and on the street don't wonder about you. They don't know. It's a miracle they don't know. I'm adjusting to the idea that others don't know our story. Don't understand the fight we've had and the battle scars we carry.

But you, my little girl, you're adjusting to a world with carpeted floors and swimming pools. You are focused on getting.to.the.other.side.of.the.room.

And like all past adjustments, your adjustment is so much faster than mine. Your acceptance is whole. Peaceful. Complete.

I watch you and I realize that once again, I'm learning from you; I'm growing because of your strength. It's an adjustment, as a mother, I didn't expect to make.

But I'm adjusting. Thank you for making it happen.

Always Yours,

PS. Caleb would like to nickname you Charlie, but pronounced "Shar-ley". I'm gonna go with no on that, right?


  1. The beauty of these children of ours is their ability to live in the moment. They don't dwell on the past, they don't fret about the future. They are in the right here, right now. I can see Charlotte is full of joy. She doesn't know things are supposed to be different. They can teach us so much about adjusting, and accepting.

  2. Charlotee is awesome!!!! She doesn't know she is delayed--she only knows that everyday brings something new for her (and for all of you, too). I remember not long after Jonathan was born, I heard the song Wonder by Natalie Merchant on MTV (I swear my oldest was watching it, not me!)...and for the first time I realized our kids' successes are what we make them out to be. And with our guidance--they will turn out to be just that..."Wonder"ful! Enjoy all of these great moments, before you know it, she will be grown! Hugs to all!!!