A little less than a year ago, I was standing in the kitchen when Geoff got home from work. He slid his phone across the counter and hit play on a YouTube song. The lyrics of “It Won’t Be Like This For Long” filled the room and for the first time that day, I felt a little big hopeful. Just a little though–not enough to actually believe that “one day we’d look back laughing at the week we brought her home.”
We’d just had Piper a few weeks prior, and her adjustment to life outside the womb had been, well…awful. For all of us. She cried and cried and cried and cried. Every time she cried, I cried. If we were both crying, Sam was probably crying. And everyone else in my life was trying to make ANY of us stop crying. The light at the end of the tunnel seemed so very far away. I remember asking Geoff if Piper could just go live with someone else, because clearly she wasn’t excited about the arrangement we had going on. I remember thinking that this might actually just be the first time God was wrong about something he gave me (obviously I was thinking SUPER clearly.)
I’m sitting here a year later–and Darius? You were right. This week, that baby turned one, and I laughed at those days and how I had no idea that my life was about to change.
It’s funny–when you’re pregnant with your first kid, EVERYONE tells you what’s going to change (they also tell you horrific labor and delivery story, ask questions about your cervix and boobs, and make comments about your weight. Pregnancy is a weird time.) They warn you about that moment when you first see the baby you carried. About how your heart just gets ripped out of you and you hold it. About how it will just crumble you to see your husband cradle that little one. There’s a this talk about how being a parent will change you. And it’s all true–every bit of it. So I was expecting it. I didn’t know what it would feel like, but I knew something was coming. I knew when he came, that he would change me and grow me and stretch me. I knew there would be new sacrifices and an entirely different life.
But no one warned me about the second one. I figured I had this whole mom thing down. Just gotta juggle two of them. The very first words I said to Piper, as soon as she was placed on my chest was, “you look different than I thought.” (You can drop my mother of the year award off anytime now.) I was SHOCKED that she looked different than Sam.
And now that I’ve had her for a year, I’ve learned something. It isn’t just being a parent that changes you. It is these little people–these specific little souls that have been specifically entrusted to my care. All the times I thought I didn’t understand what God was doing–he knew I needed Piper. I needed her sweet little spirit, her funny laugh, her stubbornness. He knew that Piper was going to change my world as much as Sam did, and that my heart was going to crumble all over again.
This week we celebrated a year of the little girl who has taught me to let go of my control of my life, and trust the one who holds it all. She is just the sweetest, bubbliest, girl ever (and a vacuum cleaner at meal times. She eats evverttyything) I cannot believe how blessed we are to have her in this family.
Happy Birthday, my little Piper Joy!