Addison Mabel

My last pregnancy, my last birth. You were truly a miracle and a gift we never could have imagined deserving or living without.  You came out with a head full of curly black hair as opposed to your totally bald-born siblings. And you have smiled, showing us that little dimple, since day one. God knew we needed your constant sweet smile, precious Addi.

It’s been a tough weekend, little girl, due to your stomach flu.

But it was inexpressibly sweet to hear you utter “pray to God…I’m talking…I’m breathing…” as you gasped for air between each vomit session. Your tiny little faith is going to move mountains. I know it moves me often.

This morning when I offered to take you to the bakery and buy you a donut,  despite your illness and exhaustion you protested, “oh no, I wouldn’t want a donut when no one else was getting one. I’ll save my donut until we can all go and get one together”. Your sweetness, thoughtfulness and kindness blow me away and often reduce me to tears.

I love your tender little heart.

I pray that this coming year I still get just as many arms wrapped around my neck and legs wrapped around my torso full-body hugs as last year and that you don’t grow up too much to slipping your little hand into mine or stop rubbing our freckly noses together and dissolving into laughter at our special little “Eskimo kisses”. That your sweetness won’t be diluted by anything. That Jesus will continue to mean the world to you. And that you find a special friend this year that will play with you nicely on the playground enjoying your smiles and sing-songs along with you.

I love you more than words, sweet Addison Mabel. I cannot believe you are 6 years old. I wish you would stay “baby Addi” forever and ever. Just never stop giggling, bouncing up and down on your “happy feet” and hugging your mama, OK?


I didn’t want to send you to kindergarten last year, but you did just fine. Not sure I did as well. I cannot believe how much and how WELL you are reading this year as a first grader–books seem to be your thing. (Barbies, kitties, puppies, and anything animal, cute, or little is too!) Words & pictures calm you down when a sibling makes you angry, and reading seems to make you happy. I am starting to think you are an introvert like me & Liam, and that’s ok. We can sit in the same room and read books forever together. I love how snuggly you are–you are the only child who is so overwhelmed by a good dinner that you have to give me a hug right then and there, who jumps into my arms at school, climbs into my lap almost anywhere and everywhere and just needs to get “centered” with a huggle-snuggle from her momma. You make me feel so wonderful with how much you love me. I am getting the biggest kick out of the little glimpses of who you are–you are going to be the most hilarious kid–your sense of humor is dry and sarcastic and throws us all into hysterics. I especially love when you try to jump into a convo that is a little bit above your head and you talk like a teenager and waggle your hand, it is the most adorable thing ever–the dimple might have something to do with that. I love your freckles that make you look like me and the fact that even though you’re 7, when you’re happy you still jump up and down on the same ‘happy feet’ that you kicked like crazy when you were happy as a baby. Never lose your sweet, loving, gentle, nurturing, not-afraid-to-love with gusto spirit little girl. And continue to seek to know and grow in your love for God and others, little girl. I love you with all my heart and will forever and never stop. ~Mom


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