Dear babies, a love letter

Tobias, Eleanor, Callista – my loves,

It’s been a year now since I first saw your sweet faces. That day was full of fear and worry, but it was also consumed by hope and faith. We’ll celebrate your birthday today without that fear and worry – faith and hope have allowed us to replace those burdens with pure happiness.

Today will be full of kisses, hugs and laughs. Daddy and I will sing you each your own birthday song, and we’ll try to sync it to the minute you were born.

We’ll dance and play, growl and squeal, clap and play peekaboo. We’ll play with blocks and balls and cars, sing songs and read books. You’ll practice walking with us and your toys and standing on your own.

You’ve accomplished things in your one year that I haven’t in my 29 years. You’ve connected with so many people and have inspired and encouraged them in ways no one could.

In journalism terms, the fact that you’re triplets is your hook, but the qualities that make you individually amazing are what hold people’s attention.

Toby,

You have managed to perfectly mix mellow and wild. You are super laid back and almost always ready for a snuggle. You’re mostly patient with getting changed and dressed, though you do often protest when it’s time to put your arms through shirt holes. You put up with your sisters snatching toys from you unless it’s my iPod or a remote. What can I say? You’re a child of the 21st century. You actually hate when anyone tries to take away “your” electronics. You always protest and instantly look to me for redemption, and you’ve been known to throw a tear-filled tantrum that makes me warily smile, wondering what we’re in for during your toddler years.

You wake nearly every night around 12:30 for a bonus nursing session. Your daddy has tried rocking or cuddling you back to sleep, but all you want is a snack from your number one source. I joke around a lot and say you’ll probably be breastfed until you leave for college, but I’m actually quite grateful that you haven’t yet given up on needing extra time with Mommy during the night. To be quite honest, I need it, too. Your sleepy snuggles are a welcome reminder that, while you’re getting more independent each day, you’re still my baby boy.

I’m pretty sure your favorite time of day is at night when pile pillows onto the floor for what we call Pillow World. All three of you love to roll around and use up the last bursts of energy for the day, but you shine during this activity. Your eyes light up and you beam, burying your face in one pillow then the next, growling and crawling around, pushing pillows with your head and gleefully diving into the piles. You know you’re less likely to bonk your head, so you really let loose your inner wild child.

You pick up on tricks your sisters do sometimes weeks later, but that doesn’t worry me. It’s part of who you are. They learn something new, we try teaching it to you, you act bored and ignore us, then a week or more later – BOOM. You’re doing it on your own, in your own time – no teaching necessary. I wonder if you are slyly watching your sisters and practicing these tricks when we aren’t looking, waiting to unveil them once you’ve mastered them. If so, I totally get it. I do the same thing. I hope you aren’t like me and let fears of not being good enough hold you back. Being good enough for others doesn’t always matter. Sometimes all that matters is that you think you’re awesome.

That’s a hard lesson you may not fully learn until you’re in your 20s, and that’s also OK. Do you know why? I will always love you, no matter what, and I’ll cheer for all the times you try things – not just when you master them.

Eleanor,

I vividly remember your newborn days, wondering what kind of kid you’d make with your constant flopping between Very Serious and Very Angry. I think you must have been practicing the ultimate “wait for it … wait for it …” of comedic timing because “serious” isn’t a word that comes to mind when I think of how to describe you.

Oddly enough, that’s how most strangers describe you because you stare at them like they’re a blank wall, unmoved by their attempts to make you smile. It isn’t that you’re serious, though, you’re sizing them up, seeing if they’re trustworthy, if they’ll appreciate your sense of humor.

Once you warm up to people, they can’t stop laughing at your silliness. From your pointing finger to your butt-in-the-air, hands-and-feet crawl, everything you do is just so … Eleanor.

You have a cartoon grin and infectious shrill giggles and hearty belly laughs. Just yesterday you learned to play peekaboo, something we’ve been teaching you, but I suspect you picked it up from watching your sister. She and I were playing peekaboo yesterday during lunch, and suddenly you started giggling. I turned in your direction to see you with your hands on top of your head, looking at me and giggling in a high voice. “Peekaboo?” I asked. You answered with more giggles and clapping.

Playing peekaboo with your hands on your head instead of over your eyes is just one of many so Eleanor things. You like to lie on your back and kick your feet around, maybe snack on your toes, talk to your hands or “read” a book held over your face. You are awesome at independent play, often needing a tap on the shoulder to get your attention away from whatever world you’re imagining.

You love dancing, and you must carry music in your soul because you can dance to a silent beat while eating, having a bottle, nursing, getting your diaper changed – whatever. Your head starts to bob, your belly wiggles up and down, and you’ve got us dancing right along with your imaginary music.

You scared us all at first, and I’m ashamed to admit I had trouble seeing past the worry for a few days. I’ll never regret your fiery personality. Hearing your neonatologist say, “I’m glad she’s feisty today. We’ve all been worried about how calm she’s been. Feisty is good. Feisty is healthy,” lifted my spirits, helped me grasp our connection and forever changed my perpective. I’m so proud of you for defying predictions, and I thank God every day for your health and feisty streak.

Callista,

Ninja Baby, my love. While your brother is mild and wild, you are sweet and spicy. You like to exercise your independence, but you want us to see and acknowledge what you’re doing. You are a fantastic mimic and realize quickly the things you do that make us laugh.

For example, one of us tried to free a book (paper is your favorite snack) from your mighty grasp, and you held on so tightly your face turned red and you shook. We laughed so hard and called you a strong girl. You next tried the red face/clenched fists/shaking body trick on waffles. Again, we laughed and called you strong. Before long, you started responding to, “How strong are you?” with what’s now a trademark move. You do it so often, and we laugh so often, that your sister caught on and now joins in the fun.

You really are strong, though. You’re physically strong, and you are strong-willed. It’s no mystery now how you went from being declared “expired” to measuring two weeks ahead of when the doctor said you had expired. Strong.

You are my doppelgänger. Not only do you look just like me (as someone who looked not much like anyone else before you, it’s a little freaky – good freaky), but you do some things just like me. You are our only thumb-sucker, and you prefer to rub your blanket’s satin edging between your fingers while sucking your thumb – just like me.

You also might get that stubborn streak from me, but I think we can equally blame your daddy, too.

You are such a happy girl. The morning of your birthday party, I picked you up from your crib still sleeping and carried you into the kitchen. You stayed asleep on my shoulder until Grandpa said your name. You cracked open your eyes, grinned and picked up your head, breaking into a giant smile.

How do you wake and instantly have a smile on your face? This is something you need to teach me.

You are super smart and are always discovering new adventures to lead your brother and sister on. They’ve for weeks admired your ability to climb up into your newborn-to-toddler rockers (stabilized with fold-down legs), but they haven’t quite figured out your secret. Instead, they gather around the chair you’re in while you play. Maybe they’re showing their appreciation, maybe they’re looking for pointers. Whatever it is, they’re often following a trail you’ve blazed.

Babies, my babies. You are, hands down, the most amazing people I’ve ever had the pleasure knowing. God granted me the greatest gift by choosing your daddy and I to belong to you. This year has been one of adapting, growing and learning. To say we all survived gives too much credit to the battles. You know we’ve had them, but they don’t define our first year together.

I think it sounds better to say we’ve all accomplished this first year.

“The Lord bless you and keep you,
The Lord lift His countenance upon you,
And give you peace, and give you peace,
The Lord make His face to shine upon you,
And be gracious unto you, be gracious,
The Lord be gracious, gracious unto you.” 

Happy birthday, Toby. Happy birthday, Eleanor. Happy birthday, Callista.

I love you, always and forever.

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Click here for the entry I wrote a year ago today. Click here for the story of their birth.