laura hough smith

I had ideas for this column — a list of things I’m thankful for; a citation of the holiday traditions I’m looking forward to — but there’s only one topic I care to write about.
She was born Nov. 6; ten fingers, ten toes and perfect. A new life to remind us what a gift life is; a new life to remind us of our Father’s love.
Marilyn Finley’s arrival here has reminded me what a blessing motherhood is, and I am so thankful I was chosen to be mom to these beautiful girls.
Before her birth, I was filled with anxiety and doubt. How would Lollie react? How would we cope without sleep? The unknowns scared me, and that, combined with my physical discomfort, weighed me down.It turns out that it’s amazing how a mother’s heart makes room for another child, and witnessing Lollie’s love for her little sister is the sweetest thing. It makes me feel like I’ve unlocked the secret of life. I have found true joy.
Wesley and I aren’t as terrified of this tiny bundle as we were with our first child. We are relieved to have a handle on what this is like. Newborns are a lot of work, we quickly remembered, and while we are more calm this time, we’re still prone to sleep-deprived absent-mindedness. I ran errands last week with my jacket inside out. Wesley put a half-finished water bottle in the coffee mug cabinet and then brewed a nice pot of water. Forgetfulness aside, we have fallen back into routines we had down pat with Lollie: You give her the bottle; I’ll fold the laundry.
Thankfully, this child makes up for sleep depriving her parents with her little squeaks, tiny feet and pudgy cheeks. Her little hand grasps my finger, and I melt. As I craft this column – using one hand to type while the other hand holds a bottle – I’m distracted by these steel gray eyes that question and reveal so much. Her eyes are familiar; they are like my mom’s, but in a way I can’t describe.
Our loved ones say she looks like Lollie, and it’s true — especially her lips and the shapes of her eyes. From the moment I met her in this world, however, I’ve thought she looks like my paternal grandfather, for whom she’s named. Her eyebrows are a shade darker than mine and Lollie’s. I love them, but then, I love everything about her.
Everything, it seems, is so much better now. Sweeter.
Lollie’s giggles as we counted stars the night before Thanksgiving, are the perfect compliment to Mary Finley’s contented sighs, I’ve found.
Before our Thanksgiving meal, Lollie stopped mid-sentence during her prayer to eat a grape off her plate. As Wesley and I tried and failed to contain our laughter, being thankful felt like bliss.

© Laura Hough Smith and laurahoughsmith, 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Laura Hough Smith and laurahoughsmith with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.