Pictured above at ten months, on our first trip to Tobago.
She was my first daughter.
And she’s always kept us on our toes. As a baby, she refused to nap for fear she might miss something. She was walking at eight months old, an impossibly tiny creature on two legs.
By a year, she was a confident runner. And she still takes that same courageous, energetic spirit into whatever she’s tackling next. Unless she doesn’t want to.
She simultaneously fascinates us and infuriates us.
When we went out when she was a toddler, I was sure she would find another family she liked better than us and leave with them. Starting as a small person, she could always find someone she knows in a crowd.
Once, when we were at Jones Beach, she disappeared. I was terrified until I found her a little ways down the beach playing with a family she knew from her grandparent’s church. On a huge beach, in the summer, she found familiar faces.
Now, my fears are more along the lines of how we’ll survive her teen years. 
She is in turns amazingly helpful and completely maddening. We often marvel how such a dramatic, fantastic, social person came from two introverted homebodies. I’m sure she will continue to amaze us.
And drive us nuts.
We love this kid.
This girl has been bringing us joy from the very beginning. 
The day she was born, I was struggling to surrender to the process of birth. Her older brother, born just 18 months earlier, had subjected me to the hardest labor I’d ever experienced, and I was terrified about having to do that again.
We knew the baby was coming; my parents had already traveled in and were caring for our other kids. The pressure was on. At 11 a.m., in frustration and desperation after hours of an early labor phase that wasn’t progressing, I messaged my husband’s family and asked them to pray. After that, I was finally able to let go. Real labor started almost immediately.
This child’s entrance into the world was the closest thing I’ve ever experienced to a painless birth. She was smiling from the very beginning. 
These days, she has grown into a fierce fighter and a nurturing helper in equal measure.
If there is a disagreement or a brawl at our house, chances are, she’s involved. 
I love her independent spirit and her ability to advocate for herself. Those traits will serve her well in life. 
Another important quality of a fifth-born child is the ability to shine brightly in chaos.
We are so glad to have this little spitfire in our family.
A while back, I came across these artistic representations of mental illness as little monsters. I can’t remember who first sent me their way, but I really resonated with the idea. Especially that anxiety is a little, hairy living being. In my mind, it latches onto the back of one shoulder and hangs on to different things in my life, whatever is providing the most interest and fuel. Recently, its entire existence was being fed with our marriage problems. We are still cautious, but the crisis seems to have passed. Anxiety got hungry and after just over a week of calm, it latched onto my self worth.
The last four days have been tough.
It was a little weird for Ash Wednesday and Valentine’s Day to fall on the same date this year.
I didn’t grow up observing Lent. Well, I did, but not the way I look at it now. We never talked about giving anything up for Lent at my house. We went every Tuesday during Lent to one of the 6 or so churches in my tiny village, and learned how other people worshiped God. In college, I had friends who observed Lent, but they always gave up things like chocolate, or chapstick, and I didn’t really get it.
As a Catholic by marriage and an adult, Lent looks a little different now. I take my kids to Ash Wednesday prayer. I seriously consider what to commit to or give up during Lent. One year right after having a baby, I committed to exercising every day. Another year I gave up Facebook, and it was wonderful. It may have been the taste of freedom that allowed me to give it up for good.
This year, as I continue through this season of feeling inadequate and overwhelmed too much of the time, I didn’t know what I could do for Lent that I could actually commit to and that would have the desired result – to draw me closer to God.
I was a young single mom with a four month old baby the first time I met my future husband. To his eternal chagrin, he doesn’t remember. We met at one of my good friend’s parents’ house for Easter dinner. We sat across from one another during the meal. At some point during the day, he showed me a photo of his girlfriend, but I don’t think we talked much.
I remember hearing him discuss philosophy with my friend’s dad in the next room later on. I liked the sound of his voice.
Three years later, my friend was getting married to his good friend, and we were both invited.
