Eight Months Early

Today, Bella flat out refused her afternoon nap. It was really my fault – she had stolen an odd catnap here and there earlier in the day as we went on a shopping adventure. But the punishment for nap rebellion in this household is being dressed up and drug taken outside for a photo shoot. The weather was splendidly warm, I had found a dress earlier in the day I was dying to put her in, and we’re almost at eight months of Arabella Grace – close enough to make this photo shoot count.

This is the first time I’ve really shot pictures outside at our new place, so at first it was a bit of an exploration to find the best light.

After starting out in the much too sunny front, we moved to the backyard. Bella was clearly more interested in exploring the previously unknown texture of grass than looking at the camera.

As she investigated the grass, I happened to glance to my side – and there it was.

The most perfect, the most yummy, the most extraordinary light.

Meaning what follows is an obscene amount of photos of our almost-eight-month-old.

Bella continues to be a bright ray of sunshine in our house. She has a smile that can light up any room.

And all it takes is a glance in her direction for that smile to erupt.

She has one of the most peaceful, joyful countenances I’ve ever seen…unless she believes you’re late in delivering her oatmeal, or she’s overdo for bedtime.

She still has the most extraordinarily chubby cheeks.

And those eyes? Oh, I have no words for those eyes.

She wants ever so badly to crawl, but hasn’t quite figured that out yet – although she does end up scooting backwards a fair bit (which only serves to up her frustration).

She has developed quite the crush on her daddy lately.

But her sister probably remains her favorite person in the house. When Ellie woke up from her nap, the light was too scrumptious not to get a few sister shots.

I probably do not praise Ellie enough here. This two year old has adjusted so well to having a little sister around – a little sister who steals mommy and daddy away for lots of doctor trips.

We did NO preparing, no discussing ahead of time, of what it would be like with a baby around. We didn’t think there would be a baby around.

And yet she has welcomed Bella in with great love…oh, and at times indifference (gotta keep things realistic here).

But as Bella grows it becomes more and more fun to watch these two interact.

There are moments here that I want to freeze in time. I want to always remember the sing-songy way Ellie exclaims “Bella!”

And the looks of sheer adoration Bella shoots toward Ellie.

I’ve got to be honest, I had tears in my eyes as I edited these pictures. This week has marked the one year anniversary of diagnosis day. One year ago today I was writing a letter to the doctor who didn’t understand our decision not to terminate our pregnancy.

I wrote…”You think I continue out of the hope that somehow the diagnosis is wrong, or that somehow the end outcome will be different. That I am clinging to some unreasonable shred of hope that this child might survive here on this earth. You don’t know my Jesus. She could survive. Not because of any error in your reading, but because my Jesus heals. Here and now, in the present day He heals. And He could choose to expand that little ribcage. And He could choose to repair her heart – with His hands or the hands of a doctor. I know He could do that. But I don’t know that He will. What I do know is that she will be healed. If not in this shadowland of a place that we mistakenly call “real,” in His permanent kingdom, where there will be no death and no dying, she will be wonderfully and completely healed. Here or there, my girl will be whole.”

And even though I wrote those words…I honestly didn’t imagine we would be here.

Didn’t imagine that Jeff would come home to dinner uncooked because his wife was too enthralled with the light and the grace poured out in front of her to realize what time it was.

I couldn’t picture this. A daddy with two girls. One blue eyed, one brown eyed.

We left for Seattle with a burial ground chosen. A year ago I thought I’d be taking pictures graveside, visiting one I barely knew and trying to explain it all to her sister.

I don’t think I’ll ever get over the awe. I hope I never get over the awe. I hope my eyes remain seasoned to see, to notice, the grace in the breaths we draw. The grace in a simple spring afternoon, bathed in light.

And I have my suspicions, rather, I’m quite certain, that this is just a foretaste. I can barely begin to imagine our wonder and awe and thanksgiving when one day, cloudy veil removed, we get to see the masterful working of all things for good and glory. Oh the glorious weight of grace to be revealed on that day!