Letters to Norah // 3 months.

Letters to NorahJoanna ZuidemaComment

Hello, Norah.

You're three months old today, sweet girl!

It's been three months since you decided you were coming.
Three months since we saw your squishy face for the first time.
Three months since our hearts exploded and reshaped around you.

These three months have been, without a doubt, the hardest three months of our lives.
But, baby girl, they've been so precious in their own way. 

Each month, we get to know you more and more.
Each month we get to see you impact the lives of people near and far. 

Norah, you never cease to amaze us.

May was no different.

This month:

You motivated kids to give. You did such a great job helping your Auntie Mel inspire her students to raise money for the Ronald McDonald House! Your story touched their sweet hearts, and now they're doing their part to touch the lives of other families just like ours. The way you continue to impact the lives of others just blows us away.


You got your 'green' thumb! While Grandma and I have been working to plant her new garden, you have clearly been busy learning about irises from your Great Grandpa Tom! Your huge, yellow bloom was the first I saw this spring. I imagine he helped you pick your favorite one from the fields of Heaven to send down to make your mama smile. Thank you, baby it was beautiful!


You introduced us to kayaking. Sweet girl, there aren't enough words in the world to tell you just how grateful your daddy and I are for your gift of our stay at Faith's Lodge. There are endless reasons that we are so thankful for that time, and I look forward to sharing the highlights of our stay with everyone. Right now, though, I want to say a special thank you for putting us on the water in those kayaks. You've given us our first activity that your daddy and I are equally enthusiastic about! We're so looking forward to using grandma and grandpa's kayaks and meeting you on the water a few more times this summer.


You inspired ink. Because of you, I got my first tattoo and your Daddy will be getting his in a little over a month. Mine is in your Grandma's handwriting as a reminder of you, of her, and of God. It's to remind me to stay in the present, and that I needn't be anxious about tomorrow. My tattoo was a mother's day gift from your daddy, and your daddy's is a father's day gift from me. Thank you for helping us with those gifts, Norah, because we were both a little lost as to what to do for our first 'parent' days.


You taught me how to pray. I thought I knew how to pray before I met you, Norah. What I've come to realize is that I'd been treating prayer more like one of those suggestion boxes often seen falling off of wooden posts in state parks – I'd drop in a note, but was pretty sure management wasn't actually going to read it, and that my note was likely surrounded by a bunch of irrelevant stuff – gum wrappers, leaves, and small angry creatures. 

Because of you, I no longer see God as a faceless CEO. When I pray, I imagine you (a stylish 17 year old, with perfectly-curled dark hair, blue-green eyes you got from your Great Grandpa Tom, and a smile filled with that spark you got from your daddy), God, and I sitting on couches sipping cups of hot tea like old friends.

I'm still trying to figure out how to stop talking so much – luckily, when you're chatting with God, the tea never gets cold.

But, Norah, I can't wait to hear what you both have to say.
I have a feeling it's going to be good.