My Little Stephen

Last week I laid down with my sweet little boy in my arms, just like I have done hundreds of times before and hundreds of times before that with his sister. I thought of all the time I have spent over the last several years doing just this very thing. Sometimes, it has not been the most conveniant thing. That being said, I wouldn't change it for the world. Some of the sweetest moments of my life have been spent holding my children while they sleep, looking at their precious faces and holding them near my heart.

My little boy is growing up. He has a new big boy bed and I have been laying down with him in his new bed at night and then slipping away after he falls asleep. Even though it is exciting to see him growing up, I must admit I have a bit of a hard time letting go of the baby age, and especially holding him in my arms as I sleep. I still miss holding my Natalie and secretly enjoy when she wakes at night and needs me to lay with her for a few minutes. It is funny that they are so alike, they even lay in my arms the same way, right in the crook of my arm...some of the best moments, I almost feel close to heaven.

As I lay there trying not to drift to sleep so I could get back up and go to my own bed, which is so easy to do at the end of the day, a hundred thoughts filled my head. Funny, how holding a baby makes me more likely to not let worries of the day run through my head. Instead, thoughts and images of my family filled my head. This happens to me often as I fall asleep at night; I think of the funny, cute, or new things one of them said or did that day and try to make a mental note to remember it. It seems so vivid, like I will never forget it, but as sleepiness comes, the memories fade away and I forget more than I remember. Remembering things has always been important to me. There are a hundred new things each day that I marvel about. Something cute one of them said. David and I elbow each other to point out the cute things they do to each other all the time. They change so fast. Then there are the things about them that are the same. Things they always do. I might not be able to list many of them, but they are the mannerisms and the little things that make them who they are, the things that make my heart recognize them. I thought about this ritual of reviewing- trying to imprint them in my memory, and how there are so many things I have forgotten. I realized that all of those forgotten details create a tapestry of feelings. I might not remember as many of the individual moments as I would like, but they create a richness and a feeling that will always be in my heart.

Children bring such joy with them. They bring something hard to describe, the best word in my opinion, is that they bring a light. I think every parent knows what I am talking about. They change everything. They bring so much happiness and love and in turn you love them more than life. I have thought about that all week and today I was at church and I heard a song that reminded me of the joy children bring; tears sprung to my eyes. It's a song that I have known all the life, but today parts of the song touched my heart in a way that music often can:

In our lovely Deseret,
Where the Saints of God have met,
There’s a multitude of children all around.
They are generous and brave;
They have precious souls to save...
Hark! Hark! Hark! ’tis children’s music—
Children’s voices, oh, how sweet,
When in innocence and love,
Like the angels up above,
They with happy hearts and cheerful faces meet...
That the children may live long
And be beautiful and strong...
Hark! Hark! Hark! ’tis children’s music—
Children’s voices, oh, how sweet,
When in innocence and love,
Like the angels up above,
They with happy hearts and cheerful faces meet

I think what touched me about this song today is the feeling it portrays about how special children are, just what has been on my mind this week.

My little guy turned two last week and I have spent the week looking through pictures trying to pick out a few to put together for him. I have not done a single scrapbook page or photo album since my little guy was born. The only thing I have done is this blog, which I began last year shortly before he turned one. I decided I needed to put some pictures together of his first year and write him a little letter. I wrote Natalie a letter for her second birthday. It is precious to me, just as I know this letter to my little Stephen will be.




Stephen,

I always thought three years was the best spacing between kids. I feel strongly that every child should be pampered and adored in the baby spot light, but at the same time I want my children to be close enough to be friends. Three years seems ideal. Before your sister got sick, we were starting to get close to the time when we were thinking of having another baby. When we learned Natalie had cancer and we heard how long her treatment would last, it felt overwhelming. Likely 2 1/2 years. I remember thinking that I was grateful we just had Natalie because it must be so hard for people to go through this with other children. In the first few weeks after Natalie's diagnosis, I was adamant in thinking we would delay our plans and NOT have any children until after Natalie completed treatment. Then, the fighting spirit welled up inside me and I decided I would NOT let cancer dictate my decisions. It would NOT rule our lives. It was not a passive decision. When we went to my parent's house for Christmas, we announced to our family that we were expecting (your Auntie Chista made the same announcement at the very same meal, which made for an exciting dinner).

I want you to always know that even though the times were hard, we wanted you then. You were such a beacon of hope in our lives. When we had "hard days," day after day, the thought of you gave us something amazing to look forward to. Just the very thought of you brought so much joy and excitement and anticipation into our lives. We sorely needed that. You were just what we needed right when we needed it. We talked about you all the time. Natalie was SO looking forward to her baby brother. She was going to "rock-a-bye the baby, kiss the baby, feed the baby, change the babies diaper, get the baby a toy." She talked about the list of things she was going to do for her baby brother all the time. It made us so happy thinking about you.

There was quite a welcoming committee waiting for your arrival. The night before you were born, your Dad and I were so excited. We were giddy, and even though we knew we would need all the sleep we could get in the days to come, we were just too excited to sleep.

You came so easy, so different than your sister. You cried right away, which brought tears of gratitude at your safe arrival to my eyes. You looked SO healthy and perfect. The love was overwhelming, every bit as much as I felt for your sister. The best description I have ever heard of what those early days with a new baby are like comes from your Auntie Becky. She describes it like a love affair. It is so strong and intense and wonderful. I felt all of that for you. You were precious and perfect. I have often worried that you would feel neglected because of all the time I had to spend taking care of things for Natalie. Times when I would have to let you cry (somehow you always cried when I was giving her medicines). Funny, because I felt the same way about Natalie too. Maybe that is just part of being a Mother. Sometimes I feel bad for the countless hours you have spent in boring waiting rooms and doctors offices and the time you spent living in a hospital. More than anything I just hope I did enough that you will always know how priceless you are in my eyes.
One thing I want you to always know is that we do things as a family. Starting in the first weeks after Natalie first got sick, we knew we could not make it without making it as a family. We didn't yet know she had cancer, but we decided then and there that we would ALWAYS do this together, we would stick together- it had to be done as a family. When you came along, we felt the same way. No one was going to take my baby and split us apart. When Natalie went to the hospital, we all went.
That is how our family will always meet whatever challenges we face. Your Dad and I are best friends and we make quite a team. You and Natalie are everything to us. I want you to know how much your Father and I adore you. Your personality is developing more and more each day. We have such a fun time seeing how similiar and different you are to your sister. We love that the two of you are best friends. I love how you adore your sister and look up to her. But, I want you to know that she adores you as well. You have been such a huge part of her recovery. You have made her want to play again, as her body has recovered she has blossomed by trying to keep up with you every bit as much as you try to keep up with her. Maybe that is why the bond between the two of you is so special. You call her Ebby. That is your special name for her. It makes all of us smile. You so often make all of us smile. You are so cute, with your blue, blue eyes and great hair. You have always looked so much like me, my little mini-me. I love how your cheeks get pink so easily, just like mine. I love seeing how you are so much like me and your Daddy and your sister and how you imitate things that we all do. You have every bit as much spunk and personality as your sister, which I did not think was possible. You are a fighter and have a bit of a temper, but you are one of the biggest sweethearts I have known.
When you were a baby, one of the gifts I recieved was a little red onsie for you that said, "Little Hero." That always struck me and in the back of my mind I wondered if one day your cord blood would save your sisters life. Everytime you wore that shirt it struck me and I had such tender feelings for my sweet boy. These days I don't so much think of that, but I still think you are a Little Hero. You have meant so much to our little family, more than I think you will ever really know. We love you. I love you.
Love-
Mama