Sunday, February 01, 2009
Lillie Donna Smylie.
As a circle of great men surrounded you to finally give you a name and a blessing, I felt the spirit of God above us. The feeling in the room was thick and I knew without a doubt that you were a gift from Him that I was afforded last year, on one of the last days in June. For your blessing day, Grandma Mary sewed you a beautiful white dress and bonnet, and there were many people there who love you very much.
You are a very unique baby. If Grace enlarged my heart with love, if Ruby divided it in two and gave me the ability to love two girls with everything I have in me, then you multiplied my heart into a million pieces, each growing in love, admiration and experience. It really is that way. You breathe air into a room, shake your head and our giggles echo through the hall, demand that we give you all the spare time and attention you deserve while gaining the perfect amount of weight in your thighs. How DO you do it?
You don't crawl, no you don't. You pull yourself up to a standing position against the couch and bounce up and down until your large head becomes the liability that it truly is and you lose your balance and fall. Not to be even temporarily deterred, you get up and do it again and again. You love your daddy and trust me, that's a welcomed change from Ruby at 7 months.
Let me tell you something. When I look at you, the noises in the background, people on TV, messes on the floor and even the sound of my phone ringing melts away. There is nothing else but your babyness. A soft pudgy body that I birthed and nursed and teased into the little person that you are now. You are unbelievably supported and loved by friends, aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents and sisters. You are fed well, dressed well and protected. All of these things are necessary, but will never compare to the things you give us. Thank you for arriving here safe and sound, nurturing us into more loving adults, and teaching me that sleep is for the weak.