Can I just start out by saying I suck at completing baby books. I really like the idea. I still have my own half completed baby book from my own mother. And it’s my only reference to what I was like as a wee one.

With my son, I made a good effort, but I found myself dreading it like a chore. Even being snarky on occasion with my responses: sleeping through the night… nope, I’ll never sleep again.

That said, when I was pregnant with my daughter, I knew I wanted a different way to document her childhood. I read blog ideas… but nothing stood out.

Then, she arrived 6 weeks early. During our short hospital stay in the NICU, I grew close to her nurses. Especially the night nurses. You see, in the final days of our stay, I woke up every three hours to walk down the hall and feed her. As I held this tiny baby, the nurses would fill the silence with instructions on how to care for a baby, but they also shared stories of their “miracle babies.”

One night, I asked what they liked best about their job. In response the nurse asked if she could show me a picture on her phone. But before I saw the picture, she told me that 15-20 years ago when Beanie Babies were popular, the hospital provided one Beanie Baby for each child. That toy sat next to them in their incubator. There parents took pictures of their baby with it: a tiny baby who looked giant next to this miniature stuffed toy. A few parents, continued to take pictures with these Beanie Babies as their baby grew and was eventually discharged from the hospital. Then, they took pictures at each milestone, with that Beanie Baby close beside.

After this brief story, the nurse reached into her pocket and grabbed her phone. She said, “I recently received this picture from a former patient.” It was a tall boy, standing in full cap and gown, obviously a graduation picture, holding a tiny Beanie Baby.

“Wow,” I thought. Besides giving the nurse a reminder that what she did mattered, it gave game me hope for my baby and an idea: take pictures at each milestone with a specific doll or toy.

I didn’t have much time or energy to find that perfect object.

Seemingly, the next day, they offered to let us go home. We quickly bought a car seat that was rated to carry a 4lbs baby, cleaned out our car, and that is where I found it: my son’s $1 plastic dinosaur.

“This could work,” I thought. As I placed this perfect tiny baby into her car seat, I placed this dinosaur next to her. Right then, I got my first milestone picture: coming home from the hospital.

Each few weeks, each weight check, each new month, I took her picture with this dinosaur. It wasn’t a chore; it was a joy. I loved taking photos and this seemed meaningful.

One year has gone by, and I have loved every picture with our “shrinking dinosaur” as my social media friends quickly named it. Though taking pictures of a crawling baby has gotten harder! Lots of blurry photos.

I look forward to the day when my own daughter stands in her cap and gown holding that tiny dinosaur. I look forward to capturing more moments that matter.

I challenge you to find a fun, stress free, cost free, way to document the meaningful moments as your child grows. Maybe you will do that traditional baby book, a journal, or even writing a poem. Or maybe this inspired you take pictures with a tiny toy, a family heirloom, or while standing under a special tree. I don’t think it’s the object that matters… it’s the growth of the child!

I see many people picking a focus word for the year. I absolutely love the idea. Others pick a scripture to focus on. This is wonderful too. Reflection, goal setting, focus and all great things. 
2 years ago I attended a Christian women’s conference: IF Gathering. We studied together, prayed together, worshiped together and broke bread together. 

Then, we took time to reflect on this question: If God is real, how should we respond? Mine thought was one word: breathe. Of course, I can actually breathe just fine, but I never really stopped to breathe. 

Breathe: to pause, to take rest, (verb: when used without object) synonym: live.

In that season of my life, I was too busy, overwhelmed, and longing for everything to just be easier. When you can’t breathe, you can’t focus on anything else but your own situation. 

So, I decided I needed to breathe. 

Just breathe. 

To Be still and know that He is God.

So, this new year I bought this new necklace with my old word for two reasons: 

First off, as a monument of how far I have come. The person I was several years ago compared to who I am now. A person who has started breathing again. 

Second, as a reminder to continue to breathe. To not be troubled. To not let myself get worked up and stressed out. To find joy. And let God be God. 
Seems easy right? Why need a reminder? Well, it’s easy when you are at peace. But when you are fighting your daily battles, it’s even easier to forget. 

I don’t know what 2017 holds, but I’m choosing JOY. I don’t just want things to be perfect and always go my way. (Of course, if they do, I’ll be totally okay with it) I’m planning for the tough moments.

•  To remember to breathe even when screaming would be my first reaction. 
• To just breathe, rather than instantly freak out. 
• To breathe and rest, when accomplishing a check on my to-do-list would be more fulfilling. 
• To breathe and listen to God, instead of listening to the noise of this world. 

Because when you run a race, you need a moment to catch your breath. And I’m in this race for the long haul. 

This year, I’ll remember to breathe, to pause, to take rest, and to live.

 

What word or scripture stands out to you when thinking of this new year? 

This happens every summer. Or at least every summer in the past few years. It hits me, all at once, that my summer wasn’t very productive. I try, grasping at straws, to finish projects and do something noteworthy. 

What will I tell my coworkers I did all summer? No real vacation. Only a few date nights/overnight trips. Mostly laundry, dishes, meal prep, and cleaning. No huge accomplishments. No trips to Africa. No volunteer work, well besides local churchy stuff. No huge childhood milestones. Only doctors visits, vaccinations, dentist appointments, lazy mornings, sensory play, babysitting for family, book reading, morning snuggles, attempts at potty training and similar adventures. And my personal to-do list, well, I barely put a dent in it. 

Then I thought to myself, what am I trying to accomplish? What is my real purpose? What makes the biggest impact? 

When you ask “What did I do this summer?” I will respond, “I loved my family. I’ll hold onto memories of sweet smiles and morning snuggles. I worked on having well rested soul and a well loved child.” That’s what I did. 

Good bye, summer. Productivity is overrated.   

On a similar note, this line of thinking makes me want to read this book: Present over Perfect.