Dear Addison: Three Months

Dear Addison,
Today you are three months old! Stop it. Stop getting older. I don’t really like it.

But I do like the collection of moments that these three months represent. More sleep (like a ridiculous amount of awesome overnight sleep. Keep it up, girlfriend.), morning giggles, afternoon pajama parties, long walks in the not-quite-as-hot heat of a Florida fall and too many field trips to count.

You come with us every Tuesday night to our LifeGroup and have never cried. You come to church with us every Sunday and, because I am unashamedly selfish over you, you sit with us. Sometimes your dad or I have to take you to the back of the room and rock you to sleep, but you’re still such a superstar and never make a scene. I can’t say that you’re not distractingly adorable, but at least you’re not wailing your lungs out. 

addie fsu2

Yesterday was the first time your dad sang at church. After a hectic morning getting you ready by myself and managing a devastating (to your outfit) poop and spit up assault, I barely made it there in time for his solo. He worked on his part all week and was so nervous about it. Now, I never asked him, but to hear the difference from his practice sessions in the car to the powerful, moving sound on Sunday, I just have to assume he saw you out there in the crowd and had the nudge to go all out.

Just your presence alone has a magical way of inspiring us to do more, to be more. Without a formal conversation, we have both become so much more motivated to pursue the things that we always claimed were important. And it’s happened because of you, sweet girl. We want to give you all the best in this life because we cannot comprehend how blessed we are, and that starts with parents who are serious about being their best selves. Dressing you up and buying you toys is certainly more fun than I expected, but what I seek to give you above all else is a picture of the God I believe in and the chance to experience real faith for yourself. Your Dad and I hope that our lives point you to an amazing grace that will free you to have the most abundant life possible. And, of course, I’ll make sure you look cute in the meantime.

3 months church collageThis month also marked the first time someone watched you without me or your dad there. We went to a Florida State football game (which they won, by the way). There were just a few tears as we pulled out of the driveway, but I missed you the whole time. Luckily, you were in great hands with BeeMa and Abuelo, and they knew I would need a steady string of pictures sent to me throughout the night. Later this month, you also got to spend a morning with Aunt Ally. She knows about the picture-for-every-minute-I’m-gone thing, too. It’s so comforting to have the dearest people in our lives available to watch you when we can’t. Allowing you to form relationships with your family was one of the main reasons we came back to Florida, and I do not know what I would do if I had to rely on strangers to care for you. Actually, I do know what I’d do—I’d never leave you.

abuelo beema addie collage

You’re making so much more noise these days. I’ve never heard anything more precious in my life. I want to record your coos and giggles and listen to it on my runs. It just doesn’t seem possible that I could be in pain with your baby voice in my head.

I suppose the theme of these recent weeks is that I simply cannot get enough of you. And that’s perfectly fine by me because pre-adolescence is already too close for my liking. Presumably you will not be as inclined to laugh when I kiss your tummy and my made up songs about bath time will not be as hysterical during those awkward days. 

hween pjs2

Last week, I was given 15 extra minutes of free time. So I plopped down on the bed with you, my fingers scooping you under your squishy arms, my thumbs gently steadying your wobbly torso. I sat you on top of my bent knees, and you became one of very, very few people in this world who have heard me sing. And you became the only person in the world who has heard me sing directly to and for them.

I studied your face with each line. I wanted to capture in my memory the sparkle from your gray eyes, the light in your expression as you learn and discover. You look back at me with such trust, even when something is new to your eyes or ears, and I feel a crushing burden of responsibility to you. You sat there on my knees, not an inkling of fear in your face, listening to a string of words trickle from my tongue in a simple melody. Words you can’t possibly understand through hearing alone, but must feel in your tiny soul mean something stronger than a silly game or nursery rhyme.

The movement of your brows, the round curving of your nose, the lengthening of your smile. I was given 15 extra minutes, and I spent them all with you.

I’ve been beaten down, I’ve been kicked around,
But she takes it all for me.
And I lost my faith, in my darkest days,
But she makes me want to believe.
They call her love, love, love, love, love.
They call her love, love, love, love, love.
She is love, and she is all I need.

Well I had my ways, they were all in vain,
But she waited patiently.
It was all the same, all my pride and shame,
And she put me on my feet.
They call her love, love, love, love, love.
They call her love, love, love, love, love.
They call her love, love, love, love, love.
She is love, and she is all I need.

nat addie

You have completely rewritten what love is to me, baby girl. How in the world could it get any better?

From My Whole Heart,


3 months nat addie


3 months fam

2 thoughts on “Dear Addison: Three Months

  1. I love reading how you put into words your love. I wish I could write as beautifully as you do.

    Love the way her belly peeks out from under her shirt.

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