Vann and I have 3 grandparents between us that are in crisis.  All in their late 80’s and early 90’s.  Men and women who have lived long and spirit-filled lives.  It makes me think a lot about the girls.  At 2 and 5, what do you know of life and death?  Their world, God-willing, will stay safe and small for as long as it can, if we have any say about it…I know the days of teenage angst and slamming doors are coming, but hopefully not for a good, long while. I want them to stay little, to be interested in childish things, to be thrilled when they have a new pair of jammies and want to wear them every.single.night.  I want them to ask me to hold their hands, because I know the day will come when they don’t ask anymore.  I wonder if it’s scary to face death.  As a Christian I know what my afterlife looks like, but even so – do you have peace?  Are you afraid?  When you’ve lived on this Earth for 90 years, are you ready?  Ella will be 3 in just over a month.  At this time, 3 years ago, we were preparing for her arrival Thanksgiving week.  Grandparents had purchased plane tickets, hotel reservations had been made, we were gearing up for a very turkey baby holiday.  There was a concern those last days that Ella had stopped receiving the nutrition she needed from my body.  Something wasn’t working.  Dr. Roth asked me to start coming in for fetal non-stress tests (where you basically lay there while they monitor baby’s heartbeat) once a week…which at the time was such a huge hassle because I had a very active 2 year old and the office was downtown…not your 10 minute hop, skip and jump like it is in Texas. Super annoyed to have to do this every week, on November 9th I went in as usual, and to add insult to injury they left me in the room for what seemed like forever.  I might have even fallen asleep.  This is before I experienced the iPhone and all of it’s magical time-sucking qualities.  It’s a good thing Instagram wasn’t around. The next thing I know, Dr. Roth is asking me if I can stay, indefinitely – well, no, I mean my childcare was only for this appointment and Vann was at work – well, she was going to call the high risk doc over at Northwestern and compare notes.  And it could be that this baby was coming as early as the morning. She finally released me later on that night (after Vann made a mad dash to collect little C) with instructions that she’d update me as soon as she could.  I remember walking to the train from the hospital – Fall was making way for Winter and the leaves crunched under my feet.  Michigan Avenue was gearing up for Christmas – lights were starting to come up everywhere.  It wouldn’t be too long before you could see your breath in front of you. At home, I received a call from the doc and she said to be at the hospital at 1 pm the next day.  It was true, the baby needed to come out because she had stopped growing.  Baby girl was coming a full two weeks early – which if you had grandparents in town might not be that big a deal.  I could hear the crushing disappointment in my Dad’s voice, who had never missed a grandchild birth – and despite my own butterflies, I consoled him and told him we’d be fine and he would get to meet her in two weeks. You can’t explain the feeling the night before you give birth – with my two c’s I knew it was coming – but the anticipation is just overwhelming.  In a wonderful way, but still. The next morning we left poor Charlie (who was sick with a horrible flu) with an on-call nurse we used through Pepsi’s benefits program.  My friends all had kids – or worked full-time jobs – so that was our only option.  I remember looking around our apartment and thinking this was the last time we would be a family of 3.  Forever changed, we would come home with a baby and Charlie would have a sister. Of course, the end of that story is that sweet dark-haired Ella Monroe was born, 5 pounds, 8 ounces, on November 10th.  She was the teeniest pea and I remember marveling at her fingers and toes.  She didn’t even fill out preemie clothes, that’s how small she was.  Being small of stature has never stopped our Ella.  Her huge personality certainly makes up for what she lacks in size.  I think she might have finally broken the 20 pound mark – but it took awhile.  And we weathered a year of early childhood intervention and feeding therapy as she wouldn’t feed herself or walk on her own until she was 18 months.  There was even concern when we decided to stop ECI back in 2011 that she was going to be delayed in her words.  When would she climb stairs without crawling up them?  When would she speak in complete sentences?  All questions we labored over for what felt like forever. Now, at almost 3, all of those fears seem like distant memories.  She’s a petite powerhouse, endlessly stubborn and almost annoying verbal at times – the child who literally asks THE SAME question about 50 times in 2 minutes.  She’s my giggly girl who carries her Minnie Mouse with her everywhere and worships her big sister.  She’s in the terrible two’s and then some.  She loves to run naked through the house with her hand in her crack.  Comforting?  Not sure.  She still has the baby booty.  I guess we should think about potty training but she shows no interest and to be honest, I’m not too concerned about it.  Could it be me trying to keep her a baby for a little longer?  Possibly.  She’ll be in her crib at least until the end of the year and maybe later, until we can afford to buy her a new bed.    She chipped one of her front teeth earlier this year and the other one has now turned grey.  Should be awesome for pictures for years to come.  There goes her modeling career. The biggest surprise to me recently is, despite all of the added stress of the house, I am beginning to feel the pull for a 3rd baby.  3 years later, and I can finally start to wrap my mind around what that looks like and who that little someone might be.  Life.  Death.  It’s all one big cycle and I guess the most important piece is that we learn how to live the days in between. Fall has finally arrived in Texas and it’s going to be a “cold” weekend – if 54 degrees constitutes “cold”.  I’ll take it, thank you very much.