Kristine Neeley » Middle Tennessee Lifestyle Portrait & Wedding Photographer

My sweet Virginia, I want so badly to get it right.

I always have, and it has looked so very much the same in such different settings. The kid in class who thrives on the approval of her teacher. The daughter always hoping her parents are proud of her. The wife wondering if she could ever make her husband happy in every way possible. The new believer shielding herself from every temptation. And now the mother, questioning every decision and action she makes and what its future impact will be on your life.

Some days, it plagues me and I worry. Other days, I look into your bright eyes and watch you smile and realize that you are two things, besides my baby. You are God’s and you are your own. When I remember these important truths, it makes it easier. I see you and I see that every bit of this journey has been led, sometimes quietly, by a hand greater than my own and you, well, you are far more resilient and increasingly independent than I give you credit for.

I am reminded, too, when I look at the innocence of everything you are right now, that I would never ever want you to feel this way. This need to be perfect or to get it all right. The fear of not being enough or of failing. I want you to have the confidence to do anything and to know that getting it wrong is so much better than not trying at all. So how can I, as your mother, keeping living this way and yet hope for something different for you?

I want it all to be different. I want you to know a better, truer, and freer life as a girl and one day, a woman, than even I have known. So, I commit this to you. I will try harder to love and lead you without the worry and fear that steals from it the power it has to change both you and your Momma. I will show you that failing at something doesn’t cripple us and there is victory in having tried at all. I will teach you, in every way I can, that our love for you is and will never depend on how good or right you are.

I cannot imagine a more perfect or beautiful you, and yet everyday, you surprise me.

I love watching you grow.
I love watching you change.
I love everything about you.

I thank God for making me your Momma and for the story that He has already written for you these last three months and two days.

Sweet girl, in the early days, I didn’t really believe them. They all said it, and I nodded my head in agreement, of course, but couldn’t wrap my head around the feeling. For me, many of those days seemed years in length. We struggled and we rejoiced, we cried and we laughed and I, as much as I knew things were changing, felt like every day was so very much the same. But now? I do believe them. And I do, because every day I find a moment – even just a sliver of one, sometimes – where that place between my heart and my throat tightens just enough to remind me that all of these days are passing and with them, you are growing and changing right before my very eyes. And because my eyes are the ones watching, almost constantly, I haven’t seen it quite like everyone around me does. But it’s obvious.

Already, I find myself wondering if I have made enough or done enough or loved enough these past ten and a half weeks. I’m sure I will always wonder that, for the rest of your life. I think about every moment that has gone between your arrival in this world and today, and I cannot believe it has been over two months. I regret, at times, letting so much go… writing more blogs, taking more pictures, documenting all of your being… and then I remember that it is your being that is keeping me so busy. And I’ll take that any day of the week.

You are such an unpredictable joy, Virginia. I felt as though we hit our stride, you and me, truly, for the first time last week. Maybe everything is not as it should be, but I learned a long time ago that the shoulds of this world are my enemy. There is a great deal of freedom in handing over the direction of my life to the One who knows best, for you and for me. And that is a daily challenge. A challenge I am happy to take on and am feeling more and more victorious, consequently, as the days go by.

I often forget how much has happened and how much is new these past weeks, so for memory’s sake… You are so responsive, smiling and “conversing” with me on a consistent basis. When you wake up from your sleep – oh, sleep – I call you “sugarpie” or “shuggy” for short, and you grin like the sun itself was peeking up out of your swaddle blanket. You cry still, of course, but so so much less and it seems your medicine and my lack of dairy intake has helped you tremendously… anything to make you well. You make the most adorable sounds, including the remnants of your newborn grunting which elicits an occasional “goosey” (we have a lot of nicknames for you) and you gave us a full-on laugh just last week. You love it when I sing to you, and I sing to you a lot – it seems your favorite is Gavin DeGraw’s “Not Over You” – or at least my rendition of it. You discovered your fist just a few weeks ago and it finds its way to your mouth, a lot. And you’re just now starting to get a little grabby – not always on purpose – but it’s still cute, none the less. You seem to be having a lot more fun with your activity mat, for that reason. You’re still trying your hardest to roll over and I often forget to do tummy time with you, because, well, because you’ve been holding your head up, propped up on your elbows, for weeks now. We call you a CrossFit baby because you’re constantly working on your core, pulling up to sitting from lying down – plus an occasional stand. You are constantly moving, even in your sleep – we find you all over the crib, having made your way like an inchworm (considering your swaddled) all around. We finally figured out that a hairdryer makes that whole post-bath meltdown you were having, well, so much better – you just didn’t want to get out and get cold. You still love your swing, can nap with the best of them in your carseat in the car or stroller, and graduated from your beloved nighttime Cuddle Cove almost a month before we thought you would meaning you’ve been straight in your crib at night for two and a half weeks, now. We’re still working on the whole crib thing for naps. I love to take you out for walks, as the weather has been unseasonably warm these past few weeks and we’ve managed to get together with some of my friends for lunches and coffees. You join your Dadda and I on our weekend driving dates, have been to church and community group for weeks, and are always a crowd-pleaser. Everyone remarks on how beautiful you are, and I hope even now, that’s sinking in.

It’s getting better all the time, baby girl, and it’s hard to imagine that it can. These are good, good days.