She is our third, our last.
Amie Bella is our winter baby.
We brought her home and while I juggled a kindy boy and a toddler girl, Amie seemed to sit contentedly in our midst from the very beginning.
Tomorrow we celebrate the third birthday of the baby of our family, and as I am preparing the cake and blowing the balloons, I am struggling to comprehend that our baby is three.
That there are no more babies to change, to jiggle on my hip, or nurse in the night, or carry in a sling. No more prams.
Now I'm blindly feeling my way through homework, practising spelling lists, remembering library books, and playing pretend shops, or libraries. When did my family get grown?
And now is where it counts. They are watching me, my every move.
They are wondering how to see God in the world, and asking how to know Him, and learning how to love everyone, regardless. I am trying to teach them to be grace-carriers.
Endless patience, kind words, and humble apologies when I (often) get it wrong.
And tomorrow Joel and Eden will excitedly love on their little sister.
They'll let her sit in the favourite chair, and be first to be served, and share in her delight in her day.
And we'll watch them play together, and realise that these are the days memories are made.