Five Months of Annea

Annea rhymes with Isaiah. I think that's how I'm going to try to help people remember her name. My uncle can't remember it, and can't remember how to remember it, and the last time he visited he told me that it isn't too late to change her name to something easier. Funny uncle!

Annea herself is soooo sweet and easy and wonderful and cute. She has been quiet and adaptable and easygoing now that I've been spending every spare moment down at my parents' house. She is a dream, and I'm enjoying her immeasurably. Laurel calls her "Therapy" and soaks her up, appreciates the tiny-joy-bundle that Annea is.

It feels okay, this family of five, these three girls. We are a good fit, we are going to figure this life out together, and I am happy. It is what I always wanted. We are taking some hits this year, some big 'ole losses, of Calvin's mom and my mom. That's rattled us, but I feel that we are strong, we are committed to making it through as best as we can muddle. The girls don't know what to do with my tears, they run to me like it's an emergency and hug my legs. (I guess, actually, they do know what to do when I cry. Thanks, girls!) I keep thinking: "As long my girls are okay, as long as Calvin is safe, I can go on." but God doesn't promise things like that; there is no quota that you fill of loss and then are guaranteed a break. And if the worst happened, I would go on. I've been wrestling with that a bit, and my fears. I've been reading a most wonderful book called 1,000 Gifts, I highly, highly recommend it. It takes you through loss, to gratefulness, and then looks at how a good God could allow bad things to happen. Basically the conclusion is that "All is Grace", it's all here for us to learn and grow and journey toward God, become more Christlike. Which is so comforting and amazing to think about, it all starts with gratitude, and giving Glory to God in all things.

Back to Annea- It's soooo easy to be thankful for her. She's the exactly right amount of chubby soft drooly babyness that I adore, just like my other girls were minus the drool. I was worried that she was behind in some developmental milestones, like using her hands, but she has caught up. She delights us as she learns about her hands, waving them in front of her face with an astounded look on her face like she's thinking: "Are these things mine!? Attached to me!?". She slings her hands around on the end of her arms to try to touch or grab at things, slobbers all over her hands, and now picks up and holds toys. Yay! And she rolled over! From back to front, just when I was starting to worry. I haven't kept very good track of when she should be doing what, but I was pretty sure she was a little slow with a few things. I am reassured that she will be fine, she's just so busy being sweet and easy that some milestones might come later. And that is fine! Happy Five Months, Annea!

Annea with my mom about two weeks ago. My mom hadn't held her for about a month before this photo was taken, but reached for her, held her up in the air, even.

While hanging out at my parents, I propped her up on the couch and ran to do something. Laurel rescued her from the couch cushions, but only after taking this picture, first. We win mom- and aunt- of-the-year awards, I'm sure.

Tummy time! She's getting stronger and playing longer on her tummy.

She's still a hot item to hold around here.

Adessa discovered a new use for Annea, hatrack.

My girls.

Thank you, Lord Jesus! I am so grateful.

Heaven Nears.

This dying is hard to accept, it has been at every interval. At first, I didn't want to hear the diagnosis, a crushing blow. Then I didn't want to see the changes, or the pain of chemo. Now, I don't want to miss out on any lucid moment, and I never want to say goodbye. I don't want to think about her actually leaving, her last moments, empty shell, gone to Glory. It will be the hardest thing to receive her funeral as the gift that it is. How could we ever close the lid of the casket for the last time? It will be hard to follow her to the graveyard, agonizing to stand by her grave and watch her lowered into it, and heartbreaking to help cover her with handfuls of earth. We will have to say "Memory Eternal" about her, my mom, who loves me better than almost anyone else. We will have to admonish her to "Rest in Peace." We will have to wait the rest of our lives, however many years God has written for us, to see her again in Heaven. I'm convinced it will seem like no time at all for her-- that from Heavenly perspective our life span is just a blip, a brief but important moment. In no time at all we will be paraded joyously by a glorious Terry around the Kingdom of God. It is us who have to wait, to miss her, to ache for her.


My mom is so close to Heaven. As her cancer has progressed, we've gone through official stages--Hospice being the latest one--and unofficial stages: first she had cancer around the house, then she and the cancer moved to the chair in the living room, and now, the bed. She has "taken to her bed", my mom. She needs so many chemicals to make her minutes bearable, and her chair is empty in the living room. Family sits with her one at a time in the bedroom, and we visit, in a quiet, non-visiting kind of way, just being with her. I tried to offer her things today, a drink of water, something to eat, conversation, a song. We offer her things of the living, because that's what we have and thats what we know, but they are no longer what she needs. She said no to all of my offers. She did say to make sure that everyone knows how much she appreciates everything. She has noticed how well we have been taken care of: meals, care of the boys, whatever we have whispered would ease this time has been done with love. Thank you. She is coming, Jesus, Terry Elizabeth Beck, my mom. She is coming to you.

Annea is Four Months Old!

Annea's sweet smile, which she flashes all the time EXCEPT when there is a camera around. When she sees a camera, her eyes get very wide and her expression verrrry serious. This gorgeous grin was caught because I devised a "baby blind", by disguising the camera with a piece of binder paper. I think I could gut a stuffed animal and sew the camera in and go into business.

On her four month birthday, (Weds, 8/29.) This was the most smile-like expression she produced in our four-month-birthday photo shoot.

Her normal camera face:

Still cute, but she looks a little started.

Another attempt to capture her smile. She has recently started smiling at the baby in the mirror, whereas before she'd smile at me in the mirror. As long as she can't see the camera, she'll smile away.

I'm still trying trying trying to get a good shot of all three of these girls. It may take years.

Adessa's First Day of Kindergarten

First day of school. All ready to go, but first, a photo shoot. Is this why we were late?

Sitting down on the last square inch of rug as we rushed her into the classroom. It took the whole week to figure out what was going on with kid drop offs and pick ups. I didn't expect such a huge learning curve for us, just about logistics.

All tuckered out after class, lined up with the kids to go home.

Adessa loves kindergarten. The first day she declared as we picked her up: "I learned how to read today." Well! That was easy! She has been so excited to go, to carry her backpack and eat her snack and learn, which is marvelous to watch. I haven't shed any tears about kindergarten, but it does seem like an awfully big deal, the beginning of her school experience. Linked to kindergarten are all the other grades, by the end of which she will be all grown up (potentially, I've been reading articles about "adult-esence"). But we're going to go one day at a time, here, and enjoy the little things, like snack time and first backpacks and new friends.