The End of 9 Stupid Mirrors.

It's okay, we thought it was weird, too. When we first looked at the house we stood in the kitchen, looked out the window at the beautiful yard and neighborhood... then hesitated, like really hesitated, because of the 300 sq/ft of awkwardness we were standing in. Don't you just love those mirrors? All nine of them? They're especially great when you're doing the dishes and you look up only to see yourself 2 feet wider covered in food splatters. Holy crap.

And thanks to my husband... here she is!

Dustin took out the cabinet to the left of the fridge and moved the wall over 2 feet, thus creating a spacious 5 foot opening to the kitchen instead of just a 3 foot opening (again, weird.). He demo-ed the mirrors, completely refinished and antiqued the cabinets, built a new wall, made an island, built and refinished the butcher block, patched the floors, installed the backsplash tile (that took me 7 trips to Home Depot and Marshal's Tile and Stone before finally deciding), and had one of our electrician friends pull new wire through our hot attic for the new lighting fixture. He also demo-ed the bi-fold door closet in the hallway where the washer/dryer used to be and added cabinets and a small built-in desk. The biggest difficulty of all was endured many trips to Real Deals, TJ Maxx, and Downeast Home with me... and who knows how many hours of looking at pictures of all sorts of kitchens on google after the kids went to bed. 

No wonder it took us 4 months.

Question: Wall paint suggestions? 

So there you have it. All of your wildest dreams really can come true. Especially when you marry a guy who apparently can do anything. Like, help me paint the kitchen... who knew, right?

Growing up slow.

16 months. That's how old Lillie was when she finally decided to stand up and walk. It was instantaneous, as if she had been secretly practicing behind my back and waited until the precise time to show off in front of pretty much everybody in that church gym cultural hall. Well, technically she took her first steps at 12 months but then resorted to walking on her knees for the next 4, forcing us to readjust the budget for little white tights quite dramatically.

Oh how I wanted her to be one of those genius babies that crawls when before they even eat solid food and could speak in sentences by the time they reached their first Birthday. I bought toys that encouraged walking, I placed her toys just barely out of reach in hopes she would develop some intrinsic motivation to get that darned toy. I started reading her books when she was still in the womb. I spent her entire infant life wanting her to be the smartest, the fastest, the tallest, the first to catch on to the next biggest thing, and then worrying about it it if she wasn't.

Today, I am delighting in watching our 9 month old baby girl sit on the floor and chew on all her toys only taking minor breaks to babble at them or me. With subsequent babies, I don't want them to crawl or walk so quickly because that's evidence that they're not little babies anymore. She'll do it eventually. I know I will soon crave the days when all I have to do is open a window to hear Lillie and Jack squealing in the trees, inventing new games, or even squabbling about if it's even possible for Jack to be Spiderman when he grows up. Lillie's relentless practicing her violin downstairs, Jack stomping around the house in his cape, Chloe's ma-ma-ma-ma-ma's--it's the noise that makes me want to turn off this computer, look around, and take this slow, hot summer all in. Growing up slow, the 1950's kind of growing up slow, is my new ideal. They'll be forced to grow up fast soon enough when the world makes them.

She grew up good, she grew up slow, like American honey. -Lady Antebellum "American Honey"

The Deal with #3.

I've never been someone that needed convincing of the importance of motherhood. I think we all get it. Raising children is the most important thing we'll ever do in this life.... we only have 1/5th of our lives to raise children.... nobody ever says on their death bed's that they wished they had worked more... blah blah blah blah blah.

I remember watching a stand up thing by Bill Cosby when we were in Utah and had just our one little Lillie at the time. Just the three of us, living it up and taking a bazillion pictures on our Kodak Easyshare camera. I was offended beyond belief when Bill spouted out this:

Do you have children? How old are they? They're grown now, but how many did you have? Two? Okay, that qualifies. That qualifies, because a person with one child, I don't really call them a parent, because there are too many things left out. If you have just one child, there are too many things left out. For instance, if something's broken in the house, you have one child, you know who did it! See, you don't have to go through "I... I... I...". You know the child did it! Also, people with one child do not have to go through "Will you stop touching me?" I mean, if you got one child and the child is doing that, then you gotta take it away....

I was sitting next to Dustin secretly loathing this man who was telling me that having one child is easy and that it "doesn't count." Who was this guy anyway? My perfect baby who practically never cried and who was content with everything and everyone and who slept a solid 11 hours every night was still hard.  Well, I guess I see the humor in it now, 7 years later. I think that happens with every sequential baby, I guess. You look back and think about how easy it was to just have one baby. Then about how easy it was to just have two children and to drive everywhere in a 4-door sedan and take up a small portion of a church bench. But listen. Three children is different from 1 and 2 and has changed my outlook on motherhood, families, and self purpose altogether.

I never knew what lack of time was until sweet, little Chloe came. I haven't used my blow dryer in 2 1/2 weeks because I simply do not have time to take a shower AND blow dry my hair. It air dries, then about 7 hours later I frantically use my straightener to tame down the frizzy waves of bland brown nastiness to make it seem like I have all the time in the world. My makeup bag has been in the passenger seat of the car for months. Sometimes I almost leave the house without my bra. But really, like you can tell whether I wear one or not these days! And my house? HA!!!!! Between getting Lillie out the door for school, breakfast, feed the baby, get the whole family dressed, brush everyone's tiny little teeth, clean up from breakfast, feed the baby, start to unload the dishwasher, make lunch, get Lillie from the bus, clean up from lunch, help Lillie with homework, read a book to Jack, feed the baby, finish unloading the dishwasher, help the kids clean up their toys, start defrosting chicken for dinner, start putting dirty dishes in the dishwasher, sweep, check the mail, change a million more diapers, clean up more toys, continue putting more dishes in the dishwasher, then feed the baby.... the house looks the exact same as when Dustin left 9 hours earlier.

My life has turned from accomplishing large tasks that I can check off at the end of the day to more humbling, tiny moments that are much more impacting. I am their mother. They know I'm here for them and that I love them with all my heart. I'm here when Lillie get's off the bus and breaks into tears because she didn't have anyone to play with at recess that day. I'm here when Jack falls and needs a Band-aid or to help him get his foot unstuck from his laundry basket (that happened today). I'm here to respond to Chloe's little coos and sounds and to reassure her that when she needs me, she can trust that I'll always respond promptly with love and concern. I'm here to receive silly cards and pictures and laugh with them when they draw me a picture of Daddy wearing a tutu. My kids know I'm on their side. They hear me pray for them by name and see my smile when they wake up each morning. I'm no different than any other mother, we all do this. My life isn't glamorous and my bangs are long overgrown and I can't shop in odd number sizes anymore, but giving of your whole self to your family is more rewarding than what the rest of the world has to offer.

Three children changes everything. When I could still feel our third baby gently kicking me inside, I thought about what my life was going to be like with three. A midst the excitement, I had interrupting thoughts about how in the world I was suppose to get everything done that needed to be done and still find time to give each child enough attention. How was I ever going to go grocery shopping again, or go to the post office, read a book, or get to church on time? If I could go back, I would tell myself to not worry. Somehow there is time to do everything. You give up what is meaningless and what profits nothing of real, eternal value and you just do it. Sometimes that involves a can of Dr. Pepper and a box of thin mints you apparently ate all by yourself in two days, but you do it. 

I always want to love all of our children with my whole being and whole heart. I always want to overflow them with confidence and security. I want all three of our children to always know how much they were wanted and how many prayers and tears were offered to get them down here with us. I want our children to know how lucky we feel that we get to be their parents. I want to teach them, learn from them, celebrate with them, cry with them, and experience every tiny piece of life together. I clean our house to give our children a home that is clean, peaceful, and inviting of the spirit. I make dinners with broccoli and green beans so we can be healthy and live full, long lives. I try to teach our children about where they came from, who loves them, and how they can choose to make choices that lead to fulfilling happiness or misery. I braid their hair, teach them to read, take them to church, sing to them, and love, love, love them. There is an eternal purpose tucked back behind everything I do. I want to be with them forever.

Whether you have 1 baby, or 3, or 7, you do it all for them. So, thank you #3 for opening my eyes and teaching me what it's really all about.

Curse this Blessed Dress

First of all, this "Simplicity" brand of clothing patterns has a marketing strategy of pure deception. This project was nothing even close to anything deserving such a brand name. You bunch of liars. And I guess that in all fairness, I technically have never sewn anything real. But still. The stress of understanding that pattern jargon and sewing itty-bitty-tiny arm holes and hearing my mediocre sewing machine make scary loud dissonant sounds while it jammed up a bazillion times when I was attaching the gathered skirt to the bodice had to have taken years off of my life. At least months! I never knew I could feel such strong negative emotions towards a sewing machine. Or a dress. Or a company named "Simplicity."

But alas, thanks to the last minute rescuing help of my sister and mother, around midnight on Saturday night before the baby blessing, it was complete. And it even turned out beautiful, beautiful enough for Chloe's 8-pound beautiful self to wear.

So I changed a few things from the pattern--namely, the neck hole, the sleeves, the ruffled skirt, and the way it closes in the back. I also added a ribbon and coordinating broach to the front. I loved the way the tied up, almost corset-inspired bodice back turned out. I also learned that my machine can make button holes. I just love technology.

We polished off her look with a beautiful tiny baby bracelet made by her Aunt Dana and a headband that was similar to the applique on the front of the dress.

So as you can imagine, she looked dainty and perfect for her special day. 

Was it worth making the dress? I guess.

I'll post pics of her in it sometime when I have a chance!

Chloe's Nursery

 

I thought long and hard about how I wanted our baby's nursery to feel. I decided on simple, elegant, and heavenly--oh, and gender neutral. Dustin and I (let's be honest. It was mostly Dustin.) spent a weekend this Summer building and installing the custom wainscot, I painted the room a shade of gray named "anonymous" and we went from there. After Chloe was born, we were able to add a few light pink touches.  It's probably my favorite room in our home--which is good--means I spend hours upon hours each day and night rocking our baby in there.

 

Here is Chloe's crib quilt I finished at last! This "easy" quilting pattern turned out to be a real doozie.

 

Now she just needs to age a tad so she can sleep in there.

Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen.

Today is Chloe's official due date, holy cow. Time is going by fast. It's hard to believe our baby is almost 6 weeks old.

 

 

 Here are some pictures I snapped of her this afternoon on my phone:

 

Chloe is about 6 1/2 pounds now and is 20 inches long and definitely has blue eyes. She sleeps all day long but usually stays awake in the mornings for a couple of hours. She goes through about 8-9 newborn diapers each day and eats well. She's doing well with tummy-time and is tracking objects and people. She also seems to have a fairly mild temperament, so far! She lets out a cute little cry about once every three days or so.

Chloe loves taking warm baths, sleeping against our chests, and being swaddled up tight. She's been my easiest newborn. I love how tiny she still is and am really soaking in the time I have with her while she's still so snuggly and small. It's nice that we got a few extra weeks to get to know each other.

The End of Month 10

 So, we did everything that everyone else did for Halloween-carved pumpkins, ate soup, asked strangers for candy.

Jack was Captain Hook, Lillie was a jellyfish, and Chloe was a baby skeleton.

 

 

Chloe and I stayed home and passed out candy to the cute kids in the neighborhood. All 15 of them. We also gave the teenagers super intense glares while dropping in a single piece of off-brand candy into their bags.

 

And to be brief in closing, Lillie has taken up another hobby. It's called "sewing." This is the dress she fashioned up to wear to church made entirely out of Afghanistan's. I mean afghans.

Chloe's Story

Chloe was born exactly 3 weeks ago from today on October 4th, 2013. Her gestational age right now is 37 1/2 weeks making her 40-week "due date" November 12th, 2013. Even when you count back the 8 months to when we found out we were having a baby, Chloe's story really starts much further back than that.

Just a few months after Jack was born I was at Target with Lillie in the basket of the cart and Jack fast asleep in his car seat holstered to the front by me. We had just checked out and were walking to put the cart away by the food court when all of a sudden I thought that one of our kids, a little boy, was missing. I was staring at both of them, Lillie and Jack, then let out a slight sigh of relief that all of my children were right there with me. I just knew then that there was a little boy missing from our family. These same occurrences happened dozens of times to both Dustin and I.

Now I know, I know. Our missing little boy ended up being a little girl--but I'll get to that later.

Just over a year later in May of 2011 we finally decided to have another baby. We had no idea that 23 emotionally exhausting, tear-filled months would follow. With each month that went by I began to feel more depressed and what started out of just being a bad day would turn into an entire bad week, until they just all became bad months. When other people would announce they were pregnant I had a very difficult time coping with the news. In November that same year, we experienced the pains of having a miscarriage. However, the worst moment was in January of 2013 when we were at Disneyland one night. It was devastating. It was difficult for both Dustin and I to not let Lillie or Jack see us both crying outside of the bathroom as we waited for the Color of Wonder show to start.

This next part is going to sound super-lame, let me forewarn you. But I decided to tell a few friends in my choir about what had been going on. (yes. I love choir.) To make a long story short, the choir began praying for me and our family. Many even participated in a special fast. I'll never forget my teacher, Brother Kempton, whole-heartedly praying for me and the desires of my family one day at the start of our rehearsal. The very next month we found out we were expecting. It could have been a movie, or something, It was magic.

Dustin and I decided years prior that when we were blessed with another baby that we wanted to be surprised and not find out the gender. There would be nothing to lose since we have a girl and a boy already, and it might be fun. Well let me tell you, the entire pregnancy we thought it was a boy. Well, sometimes I thought it could be a girl and would think about all the cute clothes of Lillie's that had been put away for over five years and all the cute hair bows and tiny and shiny Mary Jane shoes. But I just knew it was a boy deep down in my heart. 

On Sunday night, September 30th, I began to freak out. It was like all of a sudden I panicked that we could have a baby soon and nothing was ready. Nothing. The next day I went shopping and bought everything I needed for the new baby--everything from a girl and boy newborn outfits to travel sized toiletries to a new bathrobe for the hospital to even breast milk storage bags. Dustin and I went on a huge grocery shopping trip and that night made 17 freezer crock pot meals. We put up the crib, the bassinette, and I packed my navy blue SHS XC duffle bag with everything I would need to bring to the hospital and put it in the baby's closet next to our new un-expired car seat. Even though we had 6 weeks to go, we were ready, baby.

On Thursday, October 3rd, my sister left to run her annual marathon in St. George (which she rocked at and finished in 3 hours and 31 minutes and qualified for the Boston Marathon... btw) and dropped off four of her daughters for me to watch for the weekend. We joked about me going into early labor with 6 kids running around here, but with over 5 weeks until my due date, I knew it wasn't going to happen. Plus, at my appointment on Tuesday a couple days before, I was not dilated, not even effaced.

So naturally I began to freak out again when at noon that Thursday I began spotting. Scary. I called the doctor immediately and was given the instructions to just go on bed rest for the rest of the day. They assumed the spotting was from being checked a couple days earlier, but because I had also been experiencing some strong Braxton Hicks contractions (of which were not regular between intervals), they told me to lay down on the couch for the entire day.

That night the Braxton Hicks contractions were so strong they were bringing me to tears. However, they were still not very regular. Dustin went to sleep and I tried to go to sleep but kept waking up from pain. At 2AM they were 15 minutes apart. I have absolutely no idea why I didn't wake up Dustin to tell him. At 7AM they were 6-8 minutes apart and STRONG. Dustin woke up, saw me laying next to him with tears in my eyes and in severe pain and said, "Okay. We're going to the hospital, Erika." I got up to pee to find that the entire toilet was full of blood. He frantically called his mom to come over and our 11-year old niece, Rachael, took care of the younger kids while I stayed in our room doing my hair in-between contractions. We thought for sure the doctors would just stop the contractions because I just wasn't suppose to have that baby yet.

We got to the hospital at 8AM and contractions were 3-5 minutes apart. I was dilated to a 5 and because my water partially broke, there was no stopping anything. It was horrible. I even remember saying to Dustin that I didn't remember labor hurting this bad before! Because I never had the Group-B strep test, they administered antibiotics through an IV just in case. The nurse kept telling me that there must be some reason why my body was going into labor. I felt so scared and unprepared. I kept thinking that I wasn't suppose to have a baby that day. I obviously wasn't planning on it, but the thoughts of everything that could go wrong kept swirling about in my head and I felt anxious. The NICU nurses came in to talk to me and to tell me about what to expect. It was obvious that our baby would end up there, we just couldn't predict how long. I called my SIL, Alli, who unluckily only has had NICU baby's, and talked to her. I don't even remember what I asked about and what she said, but I know it brought me comfort.

Everybody who has ever seen me in labor tells stories of weird things I say after I get that blessed epidural. It's vague to me now, but Dustin swears that I had a conversation with the kind anesthesiologist about Carol Hones and Jay Hildebrandt and supposedly began singing "Wednesday's Child!" in full voice. There must have been a logical reason for this.

After the antibiotics were finally done being administered, the doctor broke the rest of my amniotic sac (water) and all of a sudden it was time. Dustin got all suited-up, and Doctor Leavitt stood next to Dustin and gave him step-by-step instructions about how to deliver the baby. I had two amazing nurses on either side of me and Dustin right in front of me smiling. One contraction later, Dustin gently laid our new baby on my stomach. She was crying, and so were we! We were so surprised to find out that the baby that had been violently kicking my ribs for several months was actually a sweet baby girl. She was tiny and warm and looked just like Jack. It was 3:09 PM.

Apparently after she was born, an unusual amount of blood followed. The NICU staff pumped over 20 cc's of blood from her stomach and after giving her some oxygen and weighing her, etc, they wheeled her away with her Dad right there with her. Doctor Leavitt then discovered that I had an abrasion in my placenta-thus causing the spotting and bleeding and contracting and early labor. Apparently it's rare and unpreventable, but thankfully my body went into labor because even just one more day of her in there swallowing all of that blood could have potentially been fatal for her.

About an hour and a half later, I was able to go to the NICU to hold our baby girl for the first time. Dustin had already given her her first bath and she had on a purple and white hair bow. I couldn't get over how beautiful she was and how sweet she was. I had forgotten how sweet and pure a newborn feels. I was so proud of her. I felt so much love and so much gratitude for being given such a sweet baby. We named her Chloe Elizabeth.

The next 7 days were a blur but are vivid at the same time. Chloe ended up needing oxygen, antibiotics, IV fluids, high-intensity billi lights, some high-calorie supplementation, and a warm incubator to keep her body temperature stable and warm. She had so many cords and monitors on her constantly monitoring her heart rate, oxygen levels, how many breaths per minute she was taking, and her temperature. Everything had to be pristinely documented including how many minutes she ate for at every feeding and how many grams her diapers weighed and even what her glucose levels were every six hours. Chloe lost 14% of her body weight and was just 4 pounds 8 ounces when we brought her home on Friday, October 11th.

Those 7 days at the NICU were full of disappointment and gratitude. We were told we could bring her home on Monday, but then that changed to Wednesday, then that changed to Thursday, then finally Friday. Every day spent in the NICU felt like a week. But Chloe needed to be there. We have an increased amount of gratitude for the knowledge and experience and technology that she received from the best nurses, doctors, and specialists. But it was still hard and at times felt unmanageable and dark. Having Dustin go back to work on Monday and finding people to watch the kids and pick up Lillie from the bus or from school every single day, and still finding energy to celebrate Jack's 4th Birthday and going from excitement and joy of finding out you get to bring your baby home to utter devastation when they say it will be another 24-48 hours was just hard.  Just so hard. So yes. those days were full of disappointment and complete gratitude at the same time.

I ended up writing out 14 thank you card's to 14 different families that helped out during that week. So many people stepped up and offered help at a time when we most needed it. On top of that, we received many text messages, phone calls, voice messages, cards, gifts, and prayers. The support and love helped sustain us.

And now she's been home for 2 weeks and it's all over. She weighed in on Tuesday at 5 pounds and 7 ounces and is gaining about 1 ounce per day. She also grew from 18 to 19 1/2 inches! She's still only .16% (not 16%, just .16%) but the doctor's are pleased with her growth. She's just beginning to outgrow her Preemie outfits and onesies and finally graduated from a folded over Preemie diaper to a newborn sized one, but she is still our sweet and tiny baby girl. The kids love her, but we love her more than they do and it's incredible to think that her Heavenly Father loves her more than we do. It's unfathomable.

Those painful 23 months seem so distant right now as I'm holding her all swaddled up on our bed typing out her story. She's perfect. She looks peaceful when she sleeps and still acts like a brand-new newborn. Our prayers have consisted of nothing but total gratitude for this perfect family and perfect daughter we've been given. There is no greater happiness. None.

 

 

And FYI, we still feel like there's a little boy missing. :)

Meet Chloe Elizabeth Miller

Chloe was born on Friday, October 4th at 3:09 PM. She came into this world weighing just 5 pounds, 4 ounces and was 18 1/2 inches in length. After immediately finding out it was a girl (surprise!), and from the first time we heard her soft cry, we were instantly consumed with love and complete adoration.

Nesting at Biblical Proportions

Alrighty. I'm officially down to my weekly doctor appointments now. I feel huge and beautiful at the same time with this 35 week tummy. Huge mainly due to every flipping pregnancy app telling me that my weight gain is in the "excessive" range. Beautiful because it's a blessing and privilege to have a baby you helped make grow inside of your body and to feel their gentle kicks and twists.

We still have no idea if it's a boy or a girl. Dustin (for the most part) thinks its a boy, but lately I've been thinking it's a girl. We have a whole slew of names picked for either. Lillie and Jack enjoyed picking out the "leaving the hospital" outfits and blankets.

 

 

After and extensive 2-full carts grocery shopping trip, Dustin helped me put together 17 freezer crock-pot meals. I've also been doubling up on my enchiladas and lasagna and things like that to freeze.

Bam! Dinner's done.

 

We've also been busy doing yard work, gardening, canning over 100 quarts, hand-shucking/freezing 175 ears of corn from said garden, building and installing wainscoting, making two headboards, finishing the playroom downstairs, building shelves and organizing the storage room, sewing, and cutting down even MORE trees. Dustin is having a love-affair with his chain saw. But it's a win/win because I love that I can see out of my bedroom window now. We have chopped down a total of 23 trees since moving in, and we still have like, 60 or something.

 

I am obsessed with our Jack Sprat. We get to spend 4 hours each morning together, just us two, while Lillie's having a blast at Kindergarten. We do crafts, play Legos, take walks, read books, go to the library and zoo, and snuggle and watch cartoons together. He is hilarious and sure can talk your head off. After reading one of his "No David" books, he decided to see what a bar of soap tastes like. For some reason I didn't oppose the idea. However, instead of a lick, he took a full-on bite with his teeth straight into a bar of Dial.

It was hilarious.



 

Dustin loves working with the scouts and has been able to go camping like, 8 times this year. The scouts in our Ward picked the cycling merit badge and last month finished the 50 miler. It was a lot of work, considering they had to do 2 10-milers, 2 15-milers, 2 25-milers, and 1 50-miler.

 

I'm still loving my calling as an Activity Day leader for the 10 and 11 year-old girls.

 

My hospital bag is packed, our dinners are already done, we have an extensive food storage, we have five Sam's Club-size boxes of diapers and wipes, the bassinette is assembled, and every single closet and drawer is clean and organized--including Dustin's gun cabinet. I'm waiting for my rocking chair and curtains to come in the mail, and that's about all I can do! I'm thinking about going outside today and painting our shutters black. I've also been needing to shampoo the upholstery in our car.

Don't you worry, I'll find something to do.

Kindergarten

 

I unexpectedly started crying after I drove away from the elementary school. Thankfully I thought before-hand to laminate a picture of our family to put in the front pouch of her backpack. Apparently that gracious idea was a tad more for my weird, conceded self than for her... because she loved her first day and had a blast.

Toothless and Six

See? There's proof. Once upon a time about 5 1/2 years ago I had a chubby daughter. And she was the sweetest. And you would never recognize her now because she is basically only 1 foot shorter than me and weighs a whopping 42 pounds. But she still has that beautiful dirty blonde hair and those striking blue eyes, and she is still the sweetest.

 

So now I need to get over that she's not that perfect baby anymore who never cries or has a messy face and who is always content with whatever the situation brought upon. Now she is 6. She is going into AM Kindergarten in exactly one week from today and will be the tallest, most confident, and smartest kid in class. I just know it. I mean, forget learning letters and sounds--she can read. And she can do real addition and subtraction problems. In her head.

And she's friendly and compassionate and will be nice to everyone. So naturally I'm proud- but also sad at the same time. That sweet baby girl of mine will be riding that huge bus without seat belts without me. I mean, really. What if someone tells her that those dust particles you see in the window when the sun is shining is not real fairy pixie dust and that a tiny fairy did not just flutter by without anyone noticing?

I will find that kid and punch him. (just kidding. And sorry for assuming it will be a boy. A dumb boy.)



 

I've let her live in this magical fairytale full of music and dancing and rainbows and toys that come to life when you're not looking for six years. I mean, just yesterday she colored a picture with her markers of a "rainbow fairy store that sells Birthday supplies."

Happy 6th Birthday, sweet Lillie Josephine. Our family loves and needs you.