As I held her close to my chest this morning, locking eyes with her, letting her read me and all the things going through my mind, I recalled the day I first met her.
The sharp pain that woke my exhausted body, caused me to drag my swollen pregnant body to the gym, to ensure that the gestational diabetes that had become my normal would not jeopardize her health. I could barely get through my two mile walk. The pains were regular, I was timing them, slowly embracing that she would soon be in my arms. Even though a quick grocery store trip had to happen, I somehow managed to push the cart up and down, grabbing the items that would be needed by my mom and kids while I was in the hospital. I knew it was D day.
Laboring at home, something I wanted to experience like I had with Ya’el was my goal. What I found was that its alot harder to labor at home with little ones. Especially a 2 yr old that just wanted to be held and couldn’t understand why sitting still snuggling her was something I could not do.
When I walked into the hospital, with a calm yet nervous husband, I forced myself to find balance between being present and also going into the sacred mental space every laboring mother has to find. I wanted to remember the shine of the waxed floors, the smell of the coffee that had being brewing too long. I didn’t want to forget the yellow strip that would hold the heart monitor around my belly. I made sure to glance at the empty bassinet and accept that I would never see another newborn Harney baby in there after that day.
Knowing and coming to grips with the fact that Veil Eden is the last baby I will ever grow has been a beautiful dance my heart has experienced.
Every milestone has been treasured deep within in my soul. They aren’t recorded in a baby book, like the rest of them. I learned after Ya’el that baby books with a family of more than 2 kids was unrealistic. I may not have a paper trail to give her one day, but I can tell you that I imprinted so many of her 1sts in my soul. Colors, smells, weather, who was around all filed away in my mental camera. I pray that she will understand and accept the words I write each year on her birthday.
Veil Eden has shown me yet again how spiritual of beings we are.
There is this quote in a movie I loved watching in high school, college or days when I had a crappy day, that use to make my husband roll his eyes at.
“That doesn’t even make sense” is always what he use to say.
Yet it always made sense to me. The longing, the empty cavern needing to be filled, the ache to be in relationship. All of that I experience with my heavenly Father, God. I long for Heaven, for eternity with my King Jesus, I long to experience sitting in the throne room of God and having every weight of the world stripped from the fear, pain, hurts I carried. Yet I have never physically met Him.
This best describes how I felt the moment I learned about Veil Eden. I see it in the way people have made space in their heart for her, knowing she needs to be in there, tucked in safely.
I have heard from countless people about her gentle demeanor. How they would just sit and wait for her flip a switch and turn into the at times “demon possessed” toddler they expected. But majority to this day still says “she is just the sweetest thing”.
And it’s true.
Veil Eden makes sure to say good morning to everyone the moment her feet hit the ground. She runs to the couch, calls each family member by name and says “hi”. If mom is running late from the gym or taking too long in the shower, she will patiently sit with the sibling who won the battle to get her morning snuggles.
She sings, especially if momma or Ya’el are belting out one of their favorite songs. Missing out on raising her voice in song is something she won’t let happen. If kyre is lost in a song, moving her body and flowing the way that only she can, she rushes to her side to learn a crash course in creative dance.
Even though her demeanor has been gentle, patient and quite frankly peaceful, she still has been particular about who she has let into her trusted circle. But once you pass the mark, boy watch out, she has your number and will walk right up to you and raise her arms to be picked up.
As we are nearing her 2nd birthday, it comes with another delicate dance between joy and sadness. I have successfully fed her for 2 years, from my body. The longest stretch for me, something that I didn’t achieve with the older ones. I am ready for her to grow up, yet I have cherished holding her, nursing her whenever she wanted “num nums” and choosing to stay present for my caboose baby.
As upcoming travel requires her and I to be seperated for multiple days, now is the time to begin the final days or possible week (s) of our journey as nursing child and momma.
It’s crazy to me how many times I thought that I had had my “last” baby. How I experienced a bonus baby 3x now. Each one showing me that we actually were missing a puzzle piece to our unit. I would daydream, pray and wrestle with how this bonus baby would fit into the chaos of a family that wasn’t prepared for them.
Yet if I had to be honest with you, Veil Eden never was a “lets hope we have room for her”. Instead from the moment we learned about Veil, weeks before I was traveling to run a half. Both Richard and I knew we needed her. That deep down there was a longing, a desire to be woven together to another soul. We had just been denying it, thinking we couldn’t make space for a 5th child.
Today we get to celebrate another year of having her in our lives. Another year of holding her when life gets to much and fighting over who gets her snuggles that bring immediate peace to the restless soul holding her. Today we get to thank God for always being a good Father and giving us what we NEED, not what we think we need. Today we get to welcome our caboose into the toddler years, saying goodbye to last Harney infant stage, but we get to do it with great joy.
Veil Eden, we love you so much. We don’t know why God thought we deserved you, but you really are the completion of our story. You have helped us see God’s goodness and favor in so many ways. How you love, how you comfort those who need you, how you read people so closely and are always watching and assessing the mental health of your family amazes me. I pray that you will always gently pry past the facades and masks people wear and instead take the time that you do to truly know a person’s heart. I can’t wait to see why God was so persistent in creating you and blessing this earth with your gentle soul.
Happy 2nd birthday sweet bean