If You Don't Want Jesus

I've given a lot of thought to this particular subject, unsure on how to approach it with you.  To even think about such things causes major aches in my heart that I'm not ready to face yet.  Oh, how it hurts to even imagine this mountain that we someday could try to cross.  Afraid to plant a seed in your head that will grow to your heart.

What if you don't want Jesus?

It's a very real and practical possibility.

When you grow up and become your own person separate of Mommy and Daddy, you are going to have to make that choice.  Do I really believe in what I've been told my whole life?  Do I want to dedicate my life to something so big that I can't even fully understand?  Are my parents lunatics?  Is this even real?

Truth be told, it's hard to be a true believer in this era.  Heresy and false teachers abound, leading people to believe things that are in direct opposition to the gospel.  Evil is so prevalent in our Sodom and Gomorrah society that it is hard for people to grasp the concept of a Good God.  American Atheism is at an all time high.  

You will grow up in a region surrounded by religion.  This is not some third world country practicing foreign voodoo religions.  You will think everyone around you knows Jesus and goes to church.  There are plenty on each corner to choose from.  But these same kids that you grow up with, assuming they are Christian, will be some of the most un-Christian people you will ever know.  You'll see hypocrisy, sacrilege, conceit, greed, and egotism that far outweighs the amount of Godly influences you will have.  

And then you'll go to college.  You'll meet people who consider themselves "free thinkers" when all they are really doing is searching for a truth too.  You'll have professors who can speak freely about their disdain for the Church and organized religion.  You'll be faced with all the temptations of being 18 years old and on your own.

Everything you know you have been taught will be questioned.

It is at that point that you have to choose - no matter what decision you made as a younger child.

Is this really it?  Is this really real?

And this is where that knot grabs hold of my throat so tight that I have to have a few gulps of water to wash it down.

This crossroad will be the most important one you will ever come to.  I can't make or change your mind for you.  You have to do it on your own.

What I can do is give you as many examples of Jesus as possible.  To be a living, breathing, walking, serving, loving, tangible piece of Jesus, so that when the hypocrisy and heresy creeps up behind you, you have something to remember.  Not only does Mom tell you about Jesus, she shows you about Jesus.

That my heart is so overcome and overwhelmed by a loving God that it can't help but overflow and fill you up.  That I will pour out my life for you so completely that when you begin to question it, you really don't because it makes so much sense that there isn't anything else for you to consider.

Because that's what Christ did for me.

You will often hear that the best witness you can bear doesn't have to filled with factoids, theology, and memory verses.  It's about Jesus, and the personal relationship and experiences that you have with Him.

So what did Christ do for me?

He took a seed of belief planted by my parents when I was young, and turned it into something beautiful that is still blooming and growing.  He took my broken heart over losing my father and made it whole again.  He reached for me so many times when I was running.  He grabbed my attention when I wasn't expecting it, and destroyed me so quickly that I had no choice but to look for Him.  And when I looked, I found.  And when I found, I was restored.  And through His Holy Restoration, I am searching deeper and deeper about my purpose for Him, and He is guiding me ever so gently, revealing pieces one at a time until my journey is complete.

One piece He has already revealed is my purpose as a mother - to create disciples right here in my home.  

Sure, I've got all my motherly duties - feed, clothe, bathe, wipe hinies, clean, clean, and clean some more.  But this is so much more important.  You will never remember me wiping your butt, but you will remember me kneeling beside your bed to pray with you.  You will remember the times we left you in Sunday School to grow your knowledge.  You will remember the times you heard me sing praises.  You will remember the Bible stories, the VBS summers, and the life verses.  You will remember all the conversations that we have about Jesus and why He did choose to die on the cross.

Because I pray that you will remember these things.  That God will write them on your heart, and bind them to your head.  That when you are faced with that decision as a young adult, you will remember your mother kneeling beside your bed, praying words of truth and freedom over your precious head.  And you will remember all the times God revealed Himself to you, even though you may not have been aware of it.

Because He does.  So many times over.  

It's my job to cultivate your relationship so that you recognize that heart tug, that divine appointment, that precious moment in a still silence.

It's hard.  It's so hard.  I've been there.  We are told we will be hated, we will suffer, and we will die for the cause of Christ.  And while it sounds pretty miserable and stuffy and binding, it isn't.  It's freedom.  It's unchained and mesmerizing and joyful.

Don't be scared to tell me if you're feeling like you can't choose Jesus.  I know you will feel like you are disappointing me, and in all honesty, you will be.  I will be disappointed if you don't choose this life for yourself.  But don't consider my life's work done.  I will never stop praying for you, even if you don't want to hear it.  I will never stop being Jesus to you, even if you don't want to see it.  I will never stop loving you, even if you don't want to feel it.

Because that's what Christ did for me.  For you.  For all of us.

A Plea for Modesty

This post has been on my mind for quite some time.  It's actually come up in conversation with multiple people, which usually means God is trying to tell me something.

I think that something is to urge me to teach my children about the importance of modesty.

We live in a hyper-visual society.  Our faces are glued to screens 90% of the day - our work computer, our smart phones, our tablets, our televisions, our Facebooks, our Instagrams, our Twitters, our blogs, etc.  Our minds are flooded with millions of visual images a day - charts and graphs, graphic news images, duckface portraits, advertisements for cheeseburgers, and viral videos.

I'll admit it - I am addicted.  I post multiple times a day on Instagram.  Photos of my children, my food, my dog, my shoes, and sometimes, myself.  And I love Facebook.  I try to paint an accurate picture of what life is like in the Parrish household.

But am I accurately painting a picture of myself too?

There is something about social media that boosts self-confidence.  If I post a selfie, I measure my worth in "likes."  Whoa!  Ten people like my photo of myself holding my coffee cup!  Fifteen people think my kid is really cute shoving spaghetti in her mouth!  A whopping eighty-eight likes on JPs very first picture - must have done something right!

But there is also something about social media that allows people to be free of limitations.  To hide behind an avatar to say things to strangers that they wouldn't say to their face.  To post inappropriate photos in hopes of garnering more "likes" to measure against themselves.  To send that photo that supposedly only lasts 10 seconds that they would never send to last forever.  To create an alternate reality that lets them be someone else.  

This is where girls fall in a web of tangled lies about their self-worth and lose all sense of themselves, just for a few clicks or thumb taps.

Brooke Allen, you are more than the word "like."

As you grow older, the monstrosity that has become social media will be even bigger and even more harmful.  I'm scared for you.

So this is why we are starting to teach you modesty even at your young age.

Quite frankly, I am appalled at some of the clothes that are deemed acceptable being sold in stores and boutiques.  Call me a prude or a goody two shoes or whathaveyou, but holy moley.  Don't nobody want to see all that.

Oh wait, I take that back.  There are plenty of people who want to see that.  The boys in your class.  The creepy old man down the street.  The not-so-creepy man sitting in your church service.  The guy you don't know cruising your Facebook pictures at home alone.

And most importantly, your future husband.

I have to fight my motherly urge sometimes to cover up girls' shoulders at church or to hand them a pair of pants that fit properly or to send them a message on Facebook that tells them their photos are inappropriate.  I absolutely cringe at some of the homecoming/prom dress styles that are so fashionable.  Legs, boobs, and backs - all in one!  And skintight to boot!  And don't even get me started on Halloween costumes.

Let's get one thing out of the way - no way, no how will this be allowed in or outside of our house.  Not happening.  Don't get the nerve to ask.  Don't even get the nerve to think about it.

Clothes are a wonderful thing.  I love clothes.  I love to shop, I love to look at fashion magazines, I love to see what the latest trends are and incorporate them into my wardrobe.  I love bright colors, classic shapes, and shiny accessories.  

I love to shop with Your GiGi, and I hope this becomes a fun thing that you can enjoy with us.  We like to take weekend trips to go shopping in Birmingham and Atlanta, and Black Friday is always one of our favorite days!

But you have to be mindful of what goes on your body.  What you wear is a direct reflection of what's in your heart.

In Christian life, modesty is so important.  There are several big reasons why:

1.  Reserve yourself for your husband.  Let your husband be the only person who gets to see that part of you.  Even if it's your future husband.  He will so appreciate that he is the only one special enough to be let in.  Create a boundary that only he is allowed to cross - a boundary that begins with your shirt's neckline.

2.  Respect other women's husbands.  Erase that message of "leave a little something for the imagination."  You should be leaving a LOT to the imagination.  A mental picture is something you can't take back from someone.  Don't even come close to the line that gives them the opportunity to begin to imagine.

3.  Don't be a distraction.  You might not think that your cute little spaghetti strap boutique dress is harmful.  You may get lots of compliments on it from other girls.  But your bare shoulders or lower thighs are just enough to be a stumbling block for the boys in your Sunday School class.  Instead of hearing the message or listening to you sing in the choir, he's focused on your legs.  And you may never know it.

4.  Back to social media - stay away from the temptation to post suggestive photos online.  Choose photos of you appropriately dressed with certain body parts covered or out of view.  You don't need those "likes" to feel good about yourself.  You also don't want people looking at those photos that don't have good intentions.  Those guys who comment on every picture about how beautiful you are?  They aren't nice.  Stay away from them.  And stay away from the duckface pictures and constant selfies - they scream, "LOOK AT ME!" and make you an easy target for low self-esteem and creeps.

5.  Respect your decision to be a Christian.  Christian means to be "like Christ."  As cliche as this sounds, would you send that Snap to Jesus?  Probably not.  So don't send it to cute boy on the corner.

6.  Respect yourself.  Period.  Choose clothing and pictures that reflect that you value yourself so much that you refuse to be on display for hungry eyes.

Am I suggesting that you should wear turtlenecks and ankle length skirts?  No, absolutely not (although Your Daddy may find this to be a good idea).  But you should be so careful about your clothing choices.  Put a sweater on over your dress.  Make sure your skirt length is appropriate standing and sitting.  Check the gap in the back of your jeans when you sit down.  Choose shorts that still cover everything if you sit cross legged on the ground.  Leggings are not always the answer to a short skirt or top if we can still see your behind.  If you are unsure of something, ask someone you trust - me, Your Daddy (again - he may not be the best help), a good girlfriend that has the same values in modesty.

  And good gracious, if you have to keep tugging at it to stay in place, it doesn't fit and you should throw it away.  The size number on the tag does not matter - the fit does.  

And JP?  My gorgeous boy who will grow into being a visual creature, as most men are.  If a girl doesn't follow these guidelines, you don't want her.  Because she doesn't respect herself, she doesn't respect you, and she doesn't respect your commitment to being a man of faith.  Women have a jezebel power over men that dates back to the beginning of time.  Don't succumb to that power.  Stand strong and wait for the woman who wants to give you all the respect you deserve.  Guard your mind against these visual temptations so that you can guard your heart.

We will more than likely argue about this several times when you get older.  But I hope that the expectation that we set from your early life will carry over to your teenage years, and it lessens the arguing.  I also hope that you see what we are doing here - it's not to be overprotective or controlling.  It's to teach you the importance of modesty as it relates to your whole life - yourself, your marriage, your friends, your image, and your representation of Christ.

So put a sweater on.  There are three in your closet already.

Green Eyed Toddler

Oh, Brooke Allen.  How my heart aches for you.  

This transition has been so hard on you.

First things first, you love your little brother...most days.  The days that you care to acknowledge that he exists.  You give him kisses on the forehead, ask for him, and say prayers for him at bedtime.  When he's crying, you bring him blankets and burp cloths and toys (a carrot from your play kitchen) to make him happy.  Sometimes you run over and help hold his bottle while I'm feeding him, and you like to relay to me what he's doing in his car seat.  You are convinced that he cries because he's not able to eat Pop Tarts.

But then, you will ever so slightly get too close to him when he's laying on the floor doing tummy time.  Or your little foot will slide closer and closer to his head while you are sitting next to him on the couch.  Or you pat him just a little too hard.

I have to watch you like a hawk.  Your jealousy has flared up big time.

I can't blame you.  Your whole life, you have been the object of everyone's affection.  Everyone has fawned over you and played with you and held you and danced with you and catered to you...and only you.

But now, there is another little person taking up that extra space in Mommy's lap, who GiGi and Daddy want to hold, and who is the reason that we can't hop up and get you exactly what you want when you want it.

After a particularly trying weekend at the beach two weeks after JP was born, you refused to have anything to do with me.  No hugs, no kisses, no answering my questions.  You went bananas any time GiGi or Daddy so much as looked at JP.  Out of frustration and sadness (and hormones), I began to cry to GiGi.  GiGi took you in the other room to talk to you.  She got you to start to open up about the way you were feeling, and I came in there with you.  GiGi left us alone, and we talked and cuddled for a long time.

I asked you, "Why are you so mad at Mommy?"  You answered, "Because I want Da-Da and JP is in the way."

AHA!  And this was MY fault.  Of course it was!  I was the one who brought JP into your little world and turned everything upside down.  I was the one who made Daddy and GiGi hold this little alien instead of you.  I was the one who was focused on bottles and burping and sleeping, instead of focusing 100% on you like I always had.

So I held you close and whispered in your ear about how I will always love you big.  You will always be my Special Girl - something that JP would never be because he is a boy!  And just because I have to take care of JP so much doesn't mean that I love you any less. 

And I finally got a smile and a hug from you for the first time in days.  I laid there and cried for quite some time.

Ever since then, you have been so much better around me.  We needed to help you understand all those emotions in your little two and a half year old heart.  You were feeling all these things and didn't know what to do with them.  We had to help you get them out.

You still get frustrated with GiGi and BanBen.  And when Daddy and I are holding JP, you make sure you can get on the couch too.  Where you are always welcome to be!  I have two arms for two reasons - You and Little Brother.

I have been focusing on spending extra special time with you each day.  I leave JP out in the hall at daycare and walk you into your classroom all by yourself.  At bedtime, I put JP in his boppy on the other side of your room and I sit next to your bed.  We sing songs, read a princess story (you are VERY into princesses - especially "Cindawewa" and "Tangult"), and say our prayers.  You love for me to sing A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes and the I Love Lucy theme song, so I make sure I sing those every time you ask me to - even in the middle of Cracker Barrel.  I ask you every morning if you are Cinderella or Rapunzel today, and you tell me who, and all about their stories.

And I tell you that you are more beautiful than all the princesses and much smarter.

My heart breaks for you when I see that green eyed monster creep up behind you.  Like this morning at daycare.  Just like every morning, I left JP outside the classroom door and walked you into your classroom.  Someone noticed him out there and started ooohing and aaahing, and drew so much attention to him that everyone went to see.  You immediately wanted me to hold you, and you dug your little head into my shoulder, and I could tell you were feeling left out and abandoned.  I took the opportunity to whisper to you how much I love you and how special you are to me.  

Because you are.  No matter who JP becomes, you will always always always be MY Sweet Girl.  MY Special Girl.  MY Smart Girl.  MY Pretty Girl.  MY Best Girl.  MY Favorite Girl. 

I hope it makes you happy to hear those things.  I could never forget about your sweet spirit, your loving heart, and your fun personality.  I love you for who YOU are.  No need to be jealous.  Mommy has plenty of room for both of you.

We are a work in progress.  We will get there.

You are always going to have a little hint of jealousy for your brother.  You will always wonder if Mom and Dad love him more than you.  You will always compare your accomplishments and your pitfalls.  There will even be times that you wish he wasn't around.  You may even want him to go away forever.

If that's the case, you come right over and sit in my lap and nuzzle your head in my shoulder.  I'll know what it means and I'll gladly whisper those affirmations in your ear again.

MY Sweet Girl.  MY Special Girl.  MY Smart Girl.  MY Pretty Girl.  MY Best Girl.  MY Favorite Girl.

I believe those things whole heartedly, and I always will.  I love you with the biggest, most expansive love that my heart will hold.  It's amazing just how big my heart can be.

Big enough for BOTH of you, without sacrificing space for one over the other.

Some people compare their children with one being their heart and the other their soul.  Or some will say one is their reason for living and the other is their reason for breathing.

You?  You are my light.  That little bright spot in my day with a sparkle in your eye that can defeat any darkness.  You really do make me happy when skies are grey.

So hold your chin up, Baby Girl.  Mommy's got you.

JP - One Month Old

Yesterday, you turned one month old.

What a month it has been.

Your Daddy and I can't seem to figure out if you are an easier baby than Big Sister (who we thought was pretty dang awesome and easy), or if we were just a bit more prepared and much less anxious this time around.

We just know what to do, I think.

Eat, sleep, poop.  Eat, sleep, poop.  Oh he's awake!  Nope, back to sleep.  

That's pretty much been our routine for the last thirty days!  

We won't know any growth stats until you go back to the doctor in another few weeks, but I think you may have finally hit the seven pound mark and you are starting to fit in 0-3 month clothing, rather than just newborn.  Which is good, because you only had like 6 newborn outfits.  I think we'll be taking the newborn insert out of the carseat soon too.

You are so easy going.  Not much upsets you, except sitting in a wet diaper for too long (you've had a rough patch of diaper rash) or us taking too long with your bottle.  

You loooooove to be held.  In fact, you sleep best on my chest with me holding onto you and patting your little bottom.  You are sure to let us know when you are tired of being by yourself and want some snuggles.

I hope you are always this way.  I want you to always feel like Mama's lap is the best place to be.

You take to tummy time much better than Big Sister did.  We think she hated it because of her reflux.

Which brings me to the next best thing - YOU DON'T HAVE REFLUX!!!!!!!

For months and months with Big Sister, we were covered in spit up and used blankets instead of burp cloths.  She had to sleep at an incline to keep that awful mess down, and we went through several bottles of gas drops.

We had no idea babies ate without puking for two hours afterwards.  Its amazing!

You sleep pretty well, waking up only once or twice each night.  You hit a major growth spurt at three weeks that had you up more than that (and Charlotte hiding in a corner), but it only lasted a few days.  

I don't mind that you only want to sleep on me, except for the number it's doing to my back.  But I like the snuggles.  I know it won't last forever.

And the thing I love most about my babies?  In appearance, you are both the perfect mixture of Your Daddy and My Daddy, Your Bubba.  There are times that you are the spitting image of Ben Parrish, and then you look at me a certain way and I see Allen Thornton all over.  Big Sister was the same way.  It's in the sparkle in your eyes and the way your faces light up when you recognize something you enjoy, like Mommy's voice, or Daddy's silly face.  Or when you look up at me right as you finish your bottle with those sweet, bright eyes.  I can't get enough of it and I try as hard as I can to paint that picture in my mind so I can remember it when I'm old and grey and my babies are adults and I don't get to see it every day.  

It's like a little piece of Dad is still hanging around, and I truly believe it is a perfect fingerprint from God meant just for me because He knows how much I miss Dad's face.

Big Sister loves you.  I'll have to address the issues we've had in a separate blog, but they are all about me and nothing about you.  She is so sweet to you, bringing you blankets and burp cloths and pacis and all sorts of toys you don't want or need.  We have given her the job of taking bottles to the sink, and she looooves to help.  She loves to give you kisses on the forehead.  Sometimes we have to remind her to be gentle, but she's pretty good.

Don't get me wrong - there are some days that she could care less that you exist.  But I think that's just part of being two years old and being jealous.  She'll get over it as you get older.

Your Daddy is just smitten with you.  He calls you "Widdle Buddy," just like Big Sister is "Widdle Buggy."  It is obvious that his relationship with you is going to be much different.  You will be his buddy and pal, while Big Sister is his princess.

Me?  Well, don't tell Your Daddy, but I think I'm in love with you too.  It's amazing how you and Big Sister can share the same space in my heart, but each hold different pieces of it.  Big Sister is my girly girl - my best friend, my little tag-a-long, my independent woman. 

You are my little man - my little love that looks up at me with gorgeous eyes who I can tell just wants his mama.  I swoon for you every time.

I am loving every bit of being Your Mommy.  It's been tough, adjusting to having two children, but we are making it work.  I wouldn't trade it for the world.

Happy one month to you, JP.  Thank you for being such a wonderful baby.  I can't wait to watch you grow.

JPs Birth Story

As a disclaimer...I actually wrote this right after coming home from the hospital, but I have just now been able to add pictures to it.  A birth story is just not complete without pictures.  :)

Monday, September 8th, was a normal day. We were prepping for your arrival on Wednesday, via induction, so I was making my lists of things to be done on Monday and Tuesday.  I kept Big Sister home from school that day with the intention of giving her some special attention, since she would be going to spend the rest of the week at Gigi's house on Tuesday night when we were admitted to the hospital. 

What I didn't know is I was possibly already in labor.  

When Your Daddy woke up Monday afternoon, I was in a frenzy, cleaning, complaining, arguing, slamming cabinet doors....it was not my finest hour. And then I became quite emotional when I was around Big Sister, knowing that everything was about to change and our little family of three was never going to be the same ever again.

But then Your Daddy gave me one of his big, world changing hugs, and I got a hot shower, and I felt so much better.

We decided we were going to have Big Sister Day, and take her to all her favorite things before we turned her world upside down. We had dinner at Chick Fil A, went to Home Depot to ride lawnmowers, and to the mall to ride the "gowiwa" and have a cookie....or two. 

 When we were at the mall, I started to notice some low, sharp pains, but didn't think much about them. I had been in false labor for three weeks and I've had lots of strange pains and pokes and contractions that got my hopes up too many times. Plus I had been on my feet all day. I thought it was just time to go home and rest.

So we put Big Sister to bed around 8:00, and Your Daddy and I settled in on the couch for a tall glass of root beer, a box of oatmeal cookies, and one of our favorite shows on tv that makes us laugh uncontrollably. I had been texting Your Gigi about the strange pains I had been having, and how I wished I would just go into labor that night so I wouldn't have to guess anymore.  I even took a bump picture randomly because I thought my outfit was cute.  I had no idea it would be the last one!

Around 9:15, I was about to tell Your Daddy it was time for us to go to bed when I felt a big sharp pain and a POP! I jumped up off the couch and exclaimed, "I think my water just broke!"

I ran to the bathroom to confirm that yes, in fact, my water had broken. Your Daddy and I took a dumbfounded minute to realize that I was actually in labor, and he ran to get his phone. I called Your Gigi to let her know my water had broken and she hopped in her car to come pick up Big Sister. I called the doctor and he told us to head on to the hospital.

After a few frantic minutes of packing the car, waking up Big Sister, putting my hand to my forehead to try to think clearly, and laughing with Your Daddy at the irony of it all, we eventually gave Big Sister goodbye kisses and headed to the hospital.

We were admitted and taken to labor and delivery, where they confirmed my water had broken and hooked me up to all the machines. My contractions had not yet started, but it didn't take long. Your Daddy got comfortable in the impossibly uncomfortable chair. Dr. Cleveland checked my dilation, and I was around 3cms, so that meant we had a long way to go. He told me to get some rest. Ha. 

By then, we were past midnight, and I realized we were going to have a due date baby! That never happens!

Around 3:00, my contractions began to really get intense. I had progressed to 4, almost 5 cms, so I asked for my epidural. Being in the middle of the night, we had to wait for the anasthesiologist on call to get to the hospital. Let's just say I was angry labor woman when he got to my room 45 minutes later. But he administered my epidural and I immediately began to feel relief.

Your Bebe and PawPaw arrived about that time, but I had had zero rest at that point, and neither had they, so they went to the waiting room for a few hours. I was able to close my eyes for a few minutes to regain some strength and to bolster my adrenaline. Your Daddy will tell you he didn't get much rest either, but he's a big fat liar because I listened to him snore all night. 

Around 6:00, Dr. Gilchrist came in to check my dilation. My body had relaxed so much that my cervix wasn't making much progress and my contractions were very irregular, so they began a dose of pitocin. Contractions picked up quickly and I could tell it wouldn't be long. 

I woke up Your Daddy and told him if he wanted to get some breakfast, now would be a good time. I sent a text to Your Gigi to see how things were going with Big Sister, and in true Big Sister fashion, she was taking her dear sweet time getting ready for school, causing Your Gigi to be a nervous wreck.

I told her to get here quick because we were having a baby soon. 

Around 8:00, I started feeling a lot of pressure. The nurse came in and said I was almost fully dilated and to let her know when I started feeling the urge to push. By then, you were being a booger and kept slipping off the external fetal monitor, so they put one on the top of your head. The nurse called Dr. Gilchrist to let him know we were getting close. I sent another text to Gigi because she hadn't gotten there yet. 

She finally arrived and was able to spend a few minutes with us until I got that strong urge to push. We kicked Gigi out of the room, the nurse paged Dr. Gilchrist, and we began practice pushes. You would crown with each push and retreat, so the nurse knew with some strong pushes, you would be out in no time. 

Dr. Gilchrist arrived and we started pushing...hard. Your Daddy got brave and took a peek. One peek was enough. "Yep.  He has hair." and he was back up by me. One big push, and your head was out, and the next big push, you were there!

You weren't crying, and we saw the umbilical cord was wrapped all around your shoulder and your legs. It kinked the cord, so you were without oxygen. Dr. Gilchrist cut the cord and gave you to the nurse who put an oxygen mask on you. 

I don't think I was able to breathe either, and I almost broke Your Daddy's hand from gripping it so hard. They assured me you would be fine, but I prayed out loud, "Breathe, baby, breathe." 

And then you did. First little gurgles, and then a big giant breath, and that first glorious cry. I have heard many beautiful sounds in my life, but there is nothing that will ever compare to the first cries of my children.

Your Daddy joined you by the nurse while they ran your tests - you were born officially at 9:22am, after almost exactly 12 hours of active labor, weighing 6 pounds, 7 ounces, and measuring 20 inches long. You have a beautifully perfect head of dark hair, but your face looks just like Big Sister's. Button nose, big blue eyes, and thin little lips. You are long and skinny with little wrinkly hands and feet.

And when they laid you on my chest finally after what seemed like hours but was only mere minutes, I got to tell you how much I love you and you are the perfect piece of me I never knew I wanted. 

Your grandparents all came in and held you and snapped pictures. They moved us to our permanent room and your grandparents all went to get some lunch. 

And as my favorite part of the day.... 

Gigi went to pick up Big Sister from school. And my whole family was in one room for the very first time. 

She was a little unsure what to think when she came in. She was a bit overwhelmed by all the people and the cameras, so she didn't say much. She asked about the IV in my arm and looked at you skeptically, while we tried to explain that you were the baby in Mommy's tummy we had been talking about all this time. It's quite the concept for a two and a half year old. 

We gave her a bit of time and she opened up some Big Sister presents. Once Mrs. Patty came in the room, she decided she was ready to hold you. 

And my heart exploded.

You had lots of visitors come in and love on you and pray over you for the next few days.  I spent a lot of time praying over you too when we had a few moments to ourselves.  We also spent a lot of time napping.  :)

We were discharged on Thursday and you have been the sweetest little guy. 

We've taken to calling you "Bud," just like we call Big Sister "Bug." You are a laid back dude, and you really only get upset when we take too long with your bottle or when we change your diaper. You're eating and sleeping like a champ. You had a little jaundice, but not enough to warrant anything but a little sunbathing in front of the window. 

We are so in love with you. I was afraid I would feel a sense of mourning when this was all over, knowing that we will more than likely not have any more children. But I don't.  I feel complete. Our family is complete. You are every little piece that was missing. I praise God for the gift of two beautiful and healthy babies.  My heart has doubled in size and I could not be more thankful.

I love you, my sweet son. Welcome to our world, John Paul Parrish.