A bird doesn't sing because it has an answer...

 T wo years ago, we were still in the throes of the pandemic – the girls doing school on their iPads, Judah watching Daniel Tiger in his underwear, celebrating birthdays outdoors at the Cabin and taking friends’ family pictures in the beautiful fall colors. I took my kids’ school pictures at Adair park (since school pictures at school obviously weren’t happening) and even snapped a few pictures of them holding little pink shoes. Two years ago, today I was prepping a birth announcement.  I knew I wanted to include pictures I’d taken during a camping vacation with friends that summer - I had taken age pictures of the kids with number signs we found at an antique shop in Joseph.  I wanted to use the 20-week ultrasound picture for the 4 th square. It remains unfinished.  Two years ago today, I was looking forward to seeing my baby girl on the ultrasound the next morning wondering what her percentiles would be and if she would be active or asleep during the procedure. Two years ago…it seem

 Cayden is 11 today. I know I just wrote about all three of my kids in the last post, but I needed to go into more detail for my eldest's birthday.  Everyone thinks their kids are special, and I am no different.  Other students at school call Cayden a "perfectionist," at which we both shake our heads, knowing why they say that, though quite untrue. In an unruly class, she is the one who obeys the teacher, does her work, reads quietly, and leads the groups she's assigned to. I would imagine that when her teacher is absent for the day, in his note he tells the sub, "just ask Cayden if there are any questions." She's THAT kid. In the future I'm sure she will be labeled "good-two-shoes" or whatever today's equivalent is. I see my critical qualities coming out in her often, where she often assumes the worst, some people call it pessimism, come call it realism.....in our house we often say, "don't be a party pooper!"  Cayden is

I felt woefully unprepared for February 20, 2022. My life is so drastically different than a year ago, and yet not. Last February, we were recovering from the ice storm, planning out where to park our RV at OHSU, and preparing our kids for all the different possible outcomes for 37-week-old baby sister. It was impossible. I was buried under the thought of choosing an induction date. There were giant fans and floor to ceiling plastic sheets in my house pumping air into giant holes cut in our ceiling after a pipe broke upstairs. Our house was physically torn apart, and we’d been riding a slow wave of grief since the 20-week ultrasound shattered our reality 4 months ago. We were tired. I still feel tired. I still feel stuck. I still am missing a part of me. There are so many things that I am thankful for, but reality is also pain. We were covered in prayers and cards and meals and gifts over the past year; all amazing displays of Jesus’ love for us, but it’s still not ok. De