• About the Author
  • Disclosure Policy
  • Share kindly, with truth
  • Miscarriage & Infertility: Help & Hope

Taking a Sad Song, Making it Better

~ Discovering joy amid pain

Taking a Sad Song, Making it Better

Category Archives: Baby Girl

The Magic of “Three”

03 Tuesday Dec 2013

Posted by purdywords in Baby Girl, Birthdays, Change, Motherhood, Mothers & Daughters

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Change, Motherhood stories, Turning Three Years Old

(blog post authored by purdywords)

There are no seven wonders of the world in the eyes of a child.  There are seven million.  ~Walt Streightiff

Baby Girl is now three years old. The days that inhabit between ages two and three are tremendous to watch, aren’t they? It’s like viewing a slow motion picture unfolding before your eyes of one joyful life lived in profound newness and exploration of the most plain, yet beautiful moments.

It’s incredible–the simple and complex changes, I mean–that occur in one short year. All of a sudden, I see marvelous, natural progress in my Baby Girl, when I didn’t quite notice the differences before her third birthday last week. Where I once saw a little girl with chubby fingers, a round face and rosy cheeks, I now look with amazement into a delicate faced version of a growing-up girl; eyes replete with wonder, a mind quick to widen with study, a dainty body wanting to stretch beyond its limits.

Her bouncy blonde hair, once a short halo of ringlets that framed her angelic baby face is now a long, flowing cascade of Rapunzel-like lockets falling just shy of the small of her back.  From her tiny rosette mouth, she once spoke short staccato words of newness and amazement. Now she speaks a lengthy flow of little girl sentences interrupted only by quick bursts of amazement or emotion, using advanced phrases confidently from the surface of a soft pink pout.

Baby Girl dances around the house playing ballerina fairy and the magical make-believe pixie dust falls around her petite shoulders like snowflakes fluttering through an imaginary winter blue sky. She’s one of those kids who wears her emotions out on her sleeve for all to see; facial expressions truth-telling of what she feels deeply on the inside. And that heart of hers? It’s pure as light and strong as diamonds.

She loves all things sparkly—she’ll ooh and ah over my wedding ring set, spend as much time trying on her bejeweled Cinderella crown, and put just as much effort into chasing rainbows on the surface of the wall in the front hallway or watching the streaming sunlight reflecting off a nearby pond. My girly girl, she is rarely seen without the color pink somewhere on her ensemble, and more than likely in the form of a ballerina’s tutu.

photo credit: purdywords

photo credit: purdywords (http://asadsongbetter.com)

Music is her guide and she will stop anywhere, anytime for the sake of a catchy beat. It’s common for Baby Girl to break out in dance, shaking her tiny tush to the beat of a drum, the strum of a guitar, the rise of a lyrical voice. Her shoulders will begin shimmying to and fro, and she’ll start to  match her own sweet voice to the song being played overhead. Later, she’ll recall the melody and verse by carrying the tunes as a secret kept inside her heart. (Some nights, I catch her singing herself to sleep.)

Ah, my Baby Girl, my delightful charmer is three years old! I can not believe how fast these few years have flown by. So fast. Too fast. All of these days–all of these lightning-fast days spent as her mother–have been one miraculous adventure after another. More than anything, I hope she continues to find unending reasons to dance, sing, and dream for all the days of her life.  That is my lifelong wish for my Baby Girl.

(blog post authored by purdywords)

Beautifully ordinary

29 Wednesday May 2013

Posted by purdywords in Baby Girl, Fathers & Daughters, Love, Peace, Writing

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Everyday Joy, Love, Simplicity

It is always the simple that produces the marvelous. ~Amelia Barr

 

Moonlight glows inside

to a gentle rise and fall,

Heart to heart they rest.

Summoned by the dryness of my mouth, I brought with me a neglected water-glass in need of a refill an hour ago and softly shuffled into the dimly lit kitchen. Emanating from the living room, a soft glow and hum traveled from the 37″ screen across the open space to where I stood watching my overworked husband cradle Baby Girl on his chest. As they lay together on our ancient, worn out couch decoratively covered in a faded green slip-cover from Pottery Barn–a wedding gift from over a decade ago–their breath came in unison. Lifting the Brita pitcher to my glass, I quietly watched the man I love will our youngest child to sleep upon his chest. I stayed a minute more to soak up this little piece of everyday joy, wishing I had a camera within reach to capture their shared moment of peace.

Not wanting to disturb their bonding time nor comforting slumber, I parted their presence by carefully tip-toeing back to the front room office and to my work–closing the french door behind me without making a sound. Inside the cocoon of my main writing space, my heart was light. I remained filled with a happy contentment garnered from witnessing the simple, gentle embrace of a father and his daughter snuggled together by the light of the moon.

Beside me, the water-glass is filled to the brim, offering refreshment for the night while I keep going a little while longer at the screen. And as I begin a new hour, I peacefully contemplate the incredible profoundness of simpler moments woven intricately by quiet gestures of love in an otherwise ordinary day.

Growing together, apart

26 Tuesday Feb 2013

Posted by purdywords in Attachment parenting, Baby Girl, Change, Love, Parenting, Toddler development

≈ 1 Comment

Before you were born I carried you under my heart. From the moment you arrived in this world until the moment I leave it, I will always carry you in my heart. ~Mandy Harrison

Rocking together to the sweet rhythm of Enya and Chant serenading us in the darkened back bedroom as we settle down for the evening, my Baby Girl nestles in the crook of my left arm, right cheek growing moist as the warmth of our bodies hold against one another in the still of the night. Glowing warmth from three night lights lovingly plugged in all around her nursery cast shadows on us as we quietly move with the music setting the peaceful tone for this nightly routine. As I hush and hum to my second rainbow baby her eyelids grow heavy as she curls two fingers around the length of my strawberry blonde tresses. In a happy way, I smile to myself looking about the room that has become her own for a year now, with the favorite books always strewn outside the bookshelf, to the three pairs of shoes lined neatly in a row, to the carefully chosen stuffed animals tucked neatly into the sides and footboard of her cherry stained toddler bed arranged perfectly by her lovingly bossy older brother. Baby, her beloved doll rests her head on a handmade peach and flower patterned pillow underneath a matching quilted blanket sewn together as a gift set by my mother for caretaking of my own dolls many moons ago. Baby Girl never forgets to kiss Baby’s vanilla scented face nor sweetly tuck her in for the night placing her delicately inside the Amish-built wooden doll cradle that my father bought for me at our town’s street festival one warm September day so long ago when I was young and still maternal with my dolls. Now that tiny bed belongs to my Baby Girl as it once belonged to my oldest, The Girl before she upgraded to new doll beds years before.

Nighttime routines can become tedious and overly long and drawn out around here, mostly because having three kids wind down together at a decent hour and at relatively the same time each night is a challenge on any good night. Lately, I don’t mind—the length of the routine, the tediousness of it all, nor if it takes away from my personal time. Lately, I’ve just wanted to hold Baby Girl a little bit longer, tighter even, lingering in the creaky white wood rocking chair as I hold her feeling that toddler-sweet, warm breath heating up the length of my forearm. Gently brushing the mess of golden brown curls away from sticking to her flushed forehead and cheeks, I constantly study Baby Girl’s porcelain-like beautiful face and marvel in awe about how she came to be here with me, how much of an angel she really is, and how fortunate I am to be holding onto this little piece of Heaven. And I suddenly forget why I’ve ever minded or felt slighted that at 27 months old, she still needs me to rock her fully to sleep.

For all her life, Baby Girl has clung to me a little more than The Boy ever did, especially at this ripe old age of two, and in ways The Girl and I missed out on during her early years before she came to be a part of our family. Never before having children did I set out to be an “attachment parent,” but I am just that, in many ways the textbook definition of that special type of parent. Truly, attachment parenting just sort of happened, and I let it happen naturally because doing so has felt exactly right. Maybe it’s because of the lack of attachment The Girl had before coming to us is so apparent and detrimental in her development, but being so attuned to my three kids has been a deep revelation in my heart–to have a deep sense of attachment and want a stronger connection with all of them since day one of our lives together and for as long as possible without pushing them away. Whatever the reason, Baby Girl needs me more now especially as her desire to be independent grows each new day. On some days, she’s bolder in her independence than on others and the pulling apart is there–farther and farther from my arms, but not completely out of my sight nor ever, ever completely out of my heart. What’s keeping me calm and content for now is knowing that at night, I’ll be holding onto her for a little while longer as she hasn’t wanted to give up the climb back into the safety of my arms and the comfort of my lap. For now, I relish these silent moments together no matter how often or rare they may come in the future.  Until then, I will start my own path to detachment for the sake of my daughter’s development and trust. It’s bittersweet for me that I get to see  my Baby Girl growing and stretching beyond the limits of us, but I continue to eagerly cheer her on in all of the attempts she makes to chase that natural way inside of her, skipping down the path from Baby Girl winding toward a larger version of herself. Down that path, I once was and it lead me here–right where I want to be.

  • purdywords
    • 30 Days of Thanks, November 2020
    • How to Give Without Giving Yourself Away
    • Raising Awareness About Miscarriage & Pregnancy Loss

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 548 other followers

Archives

  • November 2020
  • October 2020
  • September 2020
  • March 2020
  • March 2019
  • November 2018
  • April 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • November 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • September 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • November 2014
  • October 2014
  • September 2014
  • July 2014
  • March 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
  • November 2013
  • October 2013
  • August 2013
  • July 2013
  • June 2013
  • May 2013
  • April 2013
  • March 2013
  • February 2013

Goodreads: Reading Pile

Goodreads: Reading Wishlist

My Writing Cloud

30 Days of Thanks 30 Days of Thanksgiving Blessings Change Forgiveness Infertility Inspiration Intentional Living Love Memories Miscarriage Motherhood Mothers & Daughters National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Month Parenting Past Peace Personal Challenges Personal health Perspective Prayer Prayers Seasons Simple Living Simplicity Stress & Anxiety Suffering Thankfulness Tough days Writing

Enter your email address to follow this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 548 other followers

What I Write About

Blog Stats

  • 8,455 hits

Website Powered by WordPress.com.

Cancel

 
Loading Comments...
Comment
    ×
    Privacy & Cookies: This site uses cookies. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use.
    To find out more, including how to control cookies, see here: Cookie Policy