Tag Archives: Holiday

When Babies Get Bigger (Evie Turns One)

December 13, 2014


Eva was born on a cold December morning. The room was quiet. There was snow on the ground.

Her dad delivered her. I pushed for ten minutes and when Austin put her in my arms, I couldn’t believe she was mine. She was nothing like what I imagined. She felt startling, heavy, so different from her brother.

I couldn’t stop staring. She was so beautiful.



One year later and I know nothing more about parenting two kids than I did about parenting one kid, except that every day is new. Just keep swimming. When you know better, do better.

First birthdays are hard. Even though we know they will grow older, get bigger, start brushing their own teeth–there is always a part of us that fights for their smallness, mourns the loss of their newborn smell. Even though we know that they won’t always lie helplessly on our chests or coo at ceiling fans, it always hurts to let go.IMG_0568

People ask what it is like to have a daughter, and I don’t really know yet. Waylon is Waylon and Eva is Eva. They are so different in every single way.

If I had to pick an adjective to describe her it would be wild. Wild and full of ernest joy. I am Marmee and she is Jo, independent from the very first breath. A bright and happy dream.


Every year when we tell her about the day she was born, I hope we remember how quiet it was. How the love we felt filled the room. How even in those first moments, I knew she was different in the very best kind of way.


We named her Eva which means life, the first woman, the creation of a soul. Her dad thought of December, my favorite month of winter. A time of magic, of heartache, of healing. A time of astounding joy.

Happy Birthday to my sweet, fierce, and joyful little girl. We love you so.



Birthday crown and banner by Little Love Lane on Etsy.
Use the code kb10 for 10% off your purchase.

More on Evie’s Blog

Birth Story

Extended Video

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When We Say Thank You

November 26, 2014

When We Say Thank You

Edited from the archives

Thank you for first snows. For a little boy who asks, “Should we sing, Mommy? Should we sing about the snow?”

Thank you for his face. His gummy smiles and belly laughs. Thank you for his gentleness. His arms around my neck and whispered, “I love you.” Thank you for his strong will. For a voice loud enough to scream and cry. For healthy limbs strong enough to throw all the blocks on the floor.

Thank you for deep breaths. For redos and new days and I’m sorrys.

Thank you for stretch marks. These long and weary battle scars. For a body able to grow a life, a whole human baby made up of wild hair and bright, blue eyes. Thank you for her sweet breath and open-mouthed kiss. For her loud and independent spirit.

Thank you for family. For parents who drive long drives to play with their grandbabies and sisters who don’t care if your house is messy and come over to paint your nails.

Thank you for friends. For the ones you cry with, roll your eyes with. For the ones you say all the saddest, darkest things with. Thank you for the ones who help clean up. Who watch all the bad TV. Who patiently explain what a brine is.

Thank you for the guy who comes home every night and holds his babies. Who crawls on the floor despite long days and tired eyes and builds a tall tower. Thank you for his love. For making him into a man who folds his own laundry and carries everyone to bed.

Thank you for turkey and gravy and mashed potatoes. For Steve Carell and The Family Stone. Thank you for Christmas hymns and summer smells. For all the little things in between the big things that really matter.

Thank you for our tiredness. For giving us a life so rich that we cannot help but collapse at the end of the day.

Thank you for guarding us from the darkest demons.


We use the word blessed a lot these days, as if God flew down from heaven and gave us our Chevron sweaters and drive-thru Paneras because we did something right. As if it means those who don’t have new cars or Pinterest kitchens are less loved or less chosen by God.

And so I whisper quiet thank yous up into the sky, hoping not to jinx such a blessed and happy life.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.