Wednesday, December 7, 2011

One Word.

Today I woke up and the first thought that popped into my head was, "If you could choose between Lily walking or Lily talking, which one would you choose?"  My knee-jerk reaction and reply was "walking."  "Of course it would be walking," as I rolled over to my side.

Lily only weighs 28 lbs.  That's not a lot for an almost three-year-old, but then add into the equation that she is all dead weight.  Lily doesn't hold or balance herself when being held.  She is my own little human rag doll.  Whenever I am trying to explain how heavy Lily is, I always say, "Try holding three, 10-lb. bags of potatoes (okay take out 4 potatoes to make it equivalent to Lily's weight) for about 10 minutes.  How do your arms feel?  That's heavy! Right?"  Well, that is what I lug up and down the stairs at least 10 times a day.  Now, add to the weight, the act of putting her in and out of a car seat at least six times a day.  Imagine going to a store and there are no carts in the parking lot, so you have to carry all 28 lbs. of dead weight up to the store until you find a cart.  (I will actually drive around a parking lot trolling for a cart left in the parking lot and park as close to it as possible.  It is always my intention to exert as little muscle power, on my part, as possible.)  In fact, my neighborhood grocery store actually tries to always leave a cart out in one of their cart stalls knowing my situation—seeing that I am there probably 2-3 times a week. (That's why it's always nice to buddy up with your neighborhood grocer and baggers).

If you want to comprehend my plight a little more, have you ever dressed a rag doll?  Well, that is what it is like when I'm dressing Lily.  She doesn't help me put her arm through arm holes or pull her feet up to put on her socks.  I do it all.

I am always amazed when I am holding a 3-month-old and I feel all their muscles powering up as they begin to bear weight on their teeny, weeny feet.  I get so jealous.  SO JEALOUS!  I know I sound like I am whining about my little rag doll, and I am.  Just a little.

I do get sad for Lily. I want her to be able to run and hide and jump or even fall.  I want her to experience everything that life has to offer rather than what is available just a "roll" away—which is basically her life at this moment.  Life with Lily is a little slower and that is still hard for me.  Like most first-time moms, I am still a little shell shocked that I'm not able to jump in a car, and then jump out of a car. I can't run into a store, and then run out of a store. I used to do it ALL at a warped speed. I don't anymore.   I can't.  I've come to realize that being in a hurry with Lily is pointless.  I am on "Lily time" now.
What Love Is.
While I was still in bed this morning, and after I made that split second decision of wanting her to "walk," I changed my mind.  Of course.  I am totally indecisive that way.  Being Lily's mother, I asked for a "redo" and said, "Talking.  I choose 'talking' as my final answer."

I would give anything to really know Lily. Yeah, Yeah, I know my little girl.  I know all her little nuances that make her Lily.  I know the different sounds when she grunts, or when she does her best high-pitched yelp to get my attention.  I KNOW all that, but I want to know what her little mind is thinking.  Does she like red-glittery shiny shoes? What were her dreams about last night?  Does she know the sound that a cow makes?  Does she want to say, "I love you momma" every night when I tuck her into bed?  I want to know why she is sad, or what makes her happy.  Right now, I can only guess.  I have a pretty good idea, but boy it would be wonderful to just hear my little girl say, "Momma."  I long to hear that one simple word.  The word that lets you know that you are someone's first love and that they know that they belong to you.

Then this afternoon while I was driving home, suddenly tears welled up in my eyes as I reviewed my answer from this morning's trivia question.  I said it again out loud, "Talk! I want Lily to be able to talk. That's all I ask. Please!"  I knew who I was talking to.  I am sure He heard me. He wants to know our wants, desires and needs. I knew He was listening as I poured my heart out to Him.

At that moment, I turned back to Lily and said, "Let's make a deal.  If you can just say, 'Momma' I won't expect you to say anything else.  If you do, I will take you to the most magical place on earth.  You want to go to Disneyland and see Mickey?"  Lily looked at me and gurgled and then she smiled that sweet angelic smile that she has.  It seemed for a moment that she understood my request. Maybe.  I have faith.

The Savior said, "Faith can move mountains."  I've never seen a mountain move, but I have seen mountains move in lives that have changed for the better.  I have seen mountains of despair and sadness be replaced by hope and happiness. I have seen obstacles that have been overcome and darkness turned into light.  Those are mountains.  I have seen His hand move me forward in my trials as I practice faith.

"One day."  I keep saying that over and over. "One day Lily will talk."

So, here is my wish.  I want you all to know that I will take this little girl exactly how she is and I will love her for ALL of her days, just how she is currently packaged.  BUT if I had a wish.  If I had just one wish (after the trial of my faith) that could be given to me by a loving Savior, it would be to hear one word come from my little girls mouth. I long to hear Lily say, "Mother."

"If thou canst believe, all things are 
possible to him that believeth."
                                                                                —Mark 9:23

I love you Lily and I have faith.

*Photos by Melissa Schoenhardt of Moxie Photography. Provo, Utah.