Four months of Henry Paul and I finally dressed him in a sweater and took photos like a good mother. As the third baby, he is incredibly loved…but you would definitely think otherwise if you looked at my camera roll.
Alas, here is the proof – a beaming baby boy, giggling at the sound of his siblings shrieking in the background.
What exactly do I say about this guy? He was the best surprise- a positive pregnancy test I was not expecting last October. We laughed and laughed when we found out because we couldn’t fathom how we could possibly take care of all these tiny children. And yet we knew that we could.
It was an easy pregnancy and an easy delivery. “Do you see how the Lord blesses those that He loves?” was the Psalm the day we brought him home. It’s all been a pure gift…and I say that even after sleeping two hours last night and wrestling with some postpartum depression. Henry has big almond eyes and white blonde hair. He was my smallest baby (but has since developed delicious thigh rolls and a double chin). My back aches from wearing him in a carrier all the livelong day, but there is nothing quite like glancing down to see his loving gaze.
With my first baby, I clenched my fist against the suffering of it all. How was I supposed to function without time for myself? Why was this baby expecting so much of me?
But now, I know better. My soft stomach and laugh lines are testament to the 20,000 hours I’ve put into motherhood. And I don’t know much…but here’s what I know: The cliches are true – babies don’t keep and “it all goes so fast”. But mostly that when you pour out your life for another, you never truly run empty. Sleepless nights and near constant nursing and an aching back from wearing a baby won’t leave you destitute. At least, not in the things that truly matter.
Here’s to Henry. Our happy surprise.