Happy 2nd Birthday Micah!

Dear Micah,

I first started these letters to Natalie when she was two. I am determined to remember the little details of who you all are at each age. You are absolutely a little man.

I just left your room a minute ago. You are surrounded by stuffed animals, mostly dogs. It seems that each night you add another one to your collection. We've quickly gone from allowing nothing in your bed to hardly being able to find you amongst all the stuffed things. You threw away your pacifiers a few nights ago. We cut them so they would lose the suction. You had six in your bed and tried each one of them. You sighed and handed them to me one by one, saying "boken mama, boken." I told you we had better throw them away. You stood at the trash can and tried each of them one more time before throwing them in the trash. Then you simply said, "bye paci's" and you were done. You haven't asked for them since.

You are however, the master at delaying bedtime. I can't count how many times you ask for water or a light or the covers each night. Even when you are exhausted, you push the limits. You have learned to open your door and sneak out. Fortunately for us, you slam it closed behind you, so we find you in the hallway each time.

You have learned to count to six. When you play your toy drum you tap the sticks together and say "two, three four." We aren't sure who you have heard doing that, but Daddy is so excited. He says we need a drummer in the Buchanan family. You love all things music. At church you start singing most songs on the second chorus, like you are observing at first and don't want to sing it wrong.

When driving down the road, you always point out planes, boats, busses, bikes, and helmets. You feel the need to point to your own head each time you see a biker wearing a helmet. You love watching Curious George and think Elmo is the best. You always want music on while driving. Your favorite is Sadie Hawkins Dance, but you will allow us to play other songs that Bob and Larry (veggie tales) sing.

Wait a minute...

I'm back now, I just had to give you some water...

You know mostly all your colors. You love to point at everything and tell us what color it is. I think I have to give credit to daycare for this. You knew most of them before we even realized it.

You love Heidi! She is your favorite friend. I love to watch you two play and interact. It's fun to know you've had a friend since the day you were born. Heidi gave you a basketball hoop for your birthday. You love it too and always tell us you want to play with your "ball hoop."

You also love Natalie/Sissy. Everywhere she goes, you go. You've just recently started battling with her and being more assertive. For the most part though, you just really want to play with her. She is quiet protective of you and you are of her. You defend each other when time outs are given. Natalie had to go to time out the other day. You put your hand on your forehead and said, "oh no sissy!"

As you can tell, you talk ALOT. Much more then Natalie did at this age. You are articulate and so funny. You play air guitar, dance your heart out, and love to do flips in our living room.

Most of all, you are gentle and kind. You take care of all of us and our dogs. You give the biggest hugs and slobber filled kisses. You still scream "mama!!!" when I get home from work. You quietly whisper "love too" before I leave your room at night. I pray that you always maintain such a gentle spirit. It is welcoming and charming. I pray that you always hear God whispering how much he loves you and you are forever able to say to Him, "love too." I pray you grow to be a man who loves God and loves others with as much as energy as you show us all the time.

I love you so much Micah man!

Good night!

Kindergarten

I stood in the dressing room with Natalie tonight, watching her strike pose after pose while she tried on new outfits for Kindergarten. She kept calling me "darling". She was cracking herself up and chattering on and on about her new school.

She is so very excited. I am too. I just keep wondering how it's possible that she is this old? I know every parent feels this way. I know all of us say that time goes by too fast and we blink and they are grown. I've tried so hard to soak up the moments with her and yet, I was simply awe struck tonight by the idea of kindergarten. Here it is, the school schedules, the routine, the homework, the friends, lunches, and drama. I know she is ready. I'm not so sure that Chris and I are. In fact, I think I'm scared. I'm afraid she won't have something she needs or we will forget to tell her something. I'm afraid I'll somehow set her up to get picked on. I'm hoping these feelings are normal, right? I know I can't shelter her from everything. And I know despite our best efforts, some kid out there will be mean to her at some point. I know she has to go.

I also know I'm grateful for this beautiful little girl that she is now. I'm just not so sure how to drop her off into this whole new world.

"Darling," says Natalie.

I snap back from my racing thoughts to see her with her nose to the mirror making a smashed face against it.

"Yes, Natalie?"

"Did you know I can see three of me in these mirrors unless I smash my face like this, then I can only see one?"

I laugh at her and think that's how I feel right now. All smashed up against this new venture. I step away and see my baby girl in my arms, my teenage girl in the mirror, and this beautiful Kindergartner right in front of me.

"I see all three of you darling. All of the time."

The Job

I hardly ever look because I really don't want to know the number. But tonight I did, I looked at the obituaries. One of my patients had a sweet wife who blogged regularly about their journey. Her last blog entry was a link to his obituary. So, against my better judgement, I clicked on the link.

I knew three tonight on the death notice list. So I read all three and laughed at some of the details I already knew. We have had a lot of deaths this week on our little team. Today I could feel the impact in the room as everyone suddenly got tearful. I don't cry much, but today was hard.

It is hard because we had some long time patients that died. Hard because we had some ethical issues that I still haven't sorted out in my mind. Hard because we have had an amazingly high number of young patients with young children. Hard because of good questions without good answers. Hard because the job is so fast paced there is absolutely no time to sit and process anything. Hard simply because it is a hard job.

I ended the day talking to the spouse of another young patient. I choked back tears as he discussed her now very rapid decline. He is always so calm and organized. He discussed their daughters. He was discussing some of their behaviors and I gently pointed out they were being very "girl" in some ways. I told him a couple of things about girls that I could honestly tell he didn't really know. He's a really good dad and my heart broke as we talked. This is the kind of thing his wife would have told him, if she wasn't so sick. Although that thought was never spoken between us, it didn't have to be. Our call wrapped up with a scheduled visit for me to see those precious girls again. He told me that one of the daughters asked him why this would happen to their mom if God is supposedly good. We joked that we were glad our chaplain is joining me during the next visit. Then, I asked him some questions and suggested she is only asking what most adults are thinking. For the first time, I heard the emotion in his voice when he agreed. For a while, I just listened. They are strong Christians, so we talked briefly about the Bible. I gently posed the thought that God hates death too, which is why He sent Jesus to conquer it. This husband agreed.

Hard because it just is. Hard because God is good even when nothing around us feels like it.

Hard because we still live on this side of His soon coming Kingdom...