Dear Eisley,
This is a letter about math, historically my least favorite subject.
You turn one in approximately seven weeks. You are crawling up all the stairs in the house, trying to balance on your wobbly feet, and I’ve started scheming about your birthday party.
This sentiment is cliché by now, but no less true.. the first year is so very long, but also flies by in a blink.
I know the days of you climbing all over me after nursing, falling asleep in my arms, and clinging to my legs and hips are coming to a close.
You have been such a good baby. In your first year of life, we moved twice. You slept in a pack ‘n’ play until you were eight months old. We suffered through the hottest California summer with no AC. You got four teeth in a week. You endured the constant annoyance of two older sisters constantly pushing and pulling on you. You warmed right up to your nanny. You patiently handled me going back to work and figuring out the jigsaw puzzle that is life with three kids and a job. You let anyone at church hold you (praise the Lord), while your parents attend to bathroom runs with your sisters, tear down chairs, or greet new people.
People warned me I was due for a “hard” baby with number three. Your sisters had been easy, so it was time for a baby to throw me for a loop and stretch me thin, or so they said.
But you proved them wrong, sweet girl. I’ve never liked math much, so I was really glad to see the 2 easy babies + 1 hard baby = the way it always works equation turned out to be a myth. This year has been difficult for sure, but not because of you. You have been my sweet retreat in the midst of chaos.
It turns out the true equation is — one marriage + three kids + two moves + one job + endless smiles from a baby = the grace of God.
Maybe I’m not so bad at math after all…
Love,
Mama
