In a life and a world within which we mark our existence by big moments, I am two days away from a memorial of one of those big moments. You know, the type of moments that impact your life in such a way that life as you know it will never be the same. I hesitate to employ a hierarchy among them, but included would be moments such as the Sunday morning I was baptized, the hot June day I married Catherine, and...
The day that I was blessed with the little girl who we are celebrating this October and whose name marks the title of October's blog – Eliana Arabella.
October 11th, 2013 was a day that I had been waiting for since as long as I can remember. I do not remember when I first became consumed with the concept of finding “the one”, falling blissfully into love, marrying that special woman, and growing into a happy family, but I do know that from very early on I was and would always be a “helpless romantic”. And helpless indeed... I never would have dreamed I would be nearly 30 before I finally discovered and married the one with whom I had been destined to spend my life, and beyond 30 before I finally held that tiny little bundle of heaven in my arms. It was a journey at times tumultuous, at times hilarious and at times heartbreaking (as chronicled in another unfinished series of blogs you might stumble upon), but always one worth the journeying, as it brought me, and brought us to that day.
Somewhere along that journey I knew in my heart that my desire to become a father was more than a desire; it was a vocation, or a calling from God. I would sense it in unexpected and unforgotten moments. Like the time I was riding my bicycle from Richmond, Indiana home to Fort Wayne during graduate school. Yes, my bicycle. I had decided at that point in my life to forsake the Pontiac Sunfire my grandparents had given me after witnessing men ride their bicycles up mountains during a mission trip in Guatemala. Clearly the epitome of a young man ready to become a father... But it was the good thing to do at that point in my life. I was wrong about not needing a car though; as my lungs and legs began to run on fumes, I called Mom to come pick me up in Berne, Indiana. (I'll have you know I successfully completely that leg many other times!) As I lay on a park bench that sunny afternoon and closed my eyes to rest, I began to hear a father and a child running around and playing in the park nearby. For a few minutes I ease dropped upon their play and their laughter, and as I did a sense of peace covered me like the warmth of the summer sun. It was one of those moments where I simply knew that someday that would be me.
On that 11th day of October when unto us was born little Eliana Arabella, I realized that I had had no idea the peace and joy that God actually had ready for me. Elly was born at approximately 12:26 pm, 19 inches long and seven pounds, three ounces. She was two weeks over due, but apparently ready to make up for lost time as Catherine had only begun “pushing” at 12:20 pm! And so all of the sudden I was holding this tiny little girl in my arms, and she was looking up at me with a head full of dark hair and dark eyes, looking altogether like her beautiful mother. The dark hair and the dark eyes stuck, but it was not long before we began to see that she was actually altogether a spitting image of her father, only much more beautiful. I can almost feel the magic of that moment all over again as I remember delicately bathing my daughter, dressing her and preparing for that long, sleepless, anxious but exciting first night in the hospital. Then waking up to a completely new life the next morning. We took baby Elly home, and I threw on some pjs and settled in on the couch for a nap, readying what would become a familiar nest for my little pookie bear, just over my heart and upon my shoulder where she would cuddle up with me for months to come.
Quickly (now I would say too quickly) she began to grow and learn new and exciting possibilities for herself. The surprise of a coo, the strong grip of her fingers around our own, that first tiny smile she made to a little star hanging from her jungle gym, contagious little giggles and the long and growing gazes into each others eyes that I wish could have lasted forever.
Having a child teaches you things about yourself, like a capacity to love that you never knew resided within you. And beside it the capacity to hurt like you never knew you could hurt as well. At about three months Elly was the happiest little newborn you could imagine – active, smiling, laughing, just perfectly happy. I hardly remember her fussing or being upset, until one late and snowy January night. Elly seemed to be ahead of schedule and in the highest percentiles of everything imaginable, so I was a little curious to see if at that age she could master another milestone. I had laid her down on the floor of our living room and began to help her figure out how to roll over. After a couple times it seemed like she was on the verge of giving it a go! But on the third attempt she needed a little help, so I did and suddenly I heard an alarming little pop, from her arm pinned behind her back. She gave a little whimper and then began to cry! Catherine ran in the room, and I explained what had happened. Elly had stopped crying, but she was clearly uncomfortable and would not lift her right arm. If we tried to help she would wince and begin to whimper. I was beside myself thinking, “What have I done to my little girl?!” Nightmares raced through my mind of how she would never swim, never be able to shoot a basketball, set a volleyball, or anything with that arm. What if I had maimed my daughter for life?! Catherine must have thought I was losing my mind. I sort of was. All of the sudden I was like the high school boy version of myself, completely unsure how to manage my emotions – stomping around the house, kicking little toy balls and stuffed animals out of my way and almost literally beating myself up. The knots, pain and emptiness in my gut were like the feeling you recall from when your first girlfriend or boyfriend broke up with you, but multiplied by the billions. Naturally it was a blizzard that night, at least a foot of snow on the ground. By 11:00 pm Elly was clearly not feeling any better, and so we bundled up and into the dependable Honda Civic and plowed through the accumulating snow to the ER. It was not long before the doctor saw Elly, diagnosed her with a mere slipped elbow, bent her arm this way, then that way and voilà – her right arm shot up victoriously into the air. And alas, the melodramatic dad was relieved, although a bit sheepish. I always thought my mom was silly when she would say, “You'll understand when you have kids of your own”. I also thought the notion that we eventually become our parents was silly. Well. I guess you just don't know until you know.
There is something else I have realized about being a parent that I had never experienced, and it is the the constant dichotomy of mourning versus celebration as your children grow and inevitably change. When my college Theology teachers were trying to teach me about dynamic tension in Biblical literature – they should have mentioned this! I just cannot believe Elly is already 4 years old. It seems like just yesterday she was that tiny little newborn; now she is not even a toddler, and sometimes with the way she behaves she seems barely like a little girl! And every single time I witness her very person change slightly into someone new, it absolutely breaks my heart. I am constantly losing her. I will never hold my little baby girl literally in the palms of my hands. I will never hear her tiny baby sounds from a borrowed bassinet. She does not crawl; she does not take unbalanced, uneasy steps. Her cute little babble language has long been replaced by full sentences in English and/or Spanish. That chubby little face is gone, and is daily being replaced by new expressions she learns and tries everyday. Every month, or few months I feel like I am saying goodbye to someone I will never come by again, and to be completely honest – it hurts. Thankfully the loss is completely tied to this new and incredible person she continues to become. I am thankful for the joyous goofiness, even if it is accompanied by overly employed phrases like “poopy butt”. I am thankful for the sweet tenderness when she sees someone sad or upset and always comes consoling. I am thankful for her aptitude as I witness her developing understanding for new concepts. I am thankful for her humility when she realized she has made a mistake and is always willing (eventually) to make it right. There is truly so much to be thankful for when it comes to this little girl, and the most amazing part is that I know we are just getting started.
When Catherine and I were considering what we would pursue in our decision to come to Fort Wayne and Broadview's doors were opened to us, we fell in love the idea of raising Elly and Mhaira in and around a floral shop and greenhouse. We fall more in love with the reality that this is actually our life every day. Ultimately we did this and continue to do this everyday for them. As Elly continues to grow up way too quickly, it is comforting to know that I am blessed to be so close to her with an apartment right above our business. At least I know I am not missing as much as I could. To be able to hear those little feet rumble across the floor above me, to be able to hear her yelling at her little sister for taking her toys, to be able to have her come down daily and ask for a flower, all of these little moments I cherish in my heart, and they cause me to give thanks for that big moment from which they are all derived. I hope deeply in my heart that she will one day look back and cherish those shared moments as well.
Once or twice since we have been here the thought has crossed my mind that maybe someday Eliana Arabella will find herself seated at this chair in front of a computer writing about her own adventures at Broadview Florist and Greenhouse. The thought grabbed me strongly this past September when my wife and I along with our designers attended Gassafy's Fall open house and design show. As we were seating ourselves to prepare for the design show portion, out of the corner of my eye I caught a glimpse a young girl who could not have been much more than high school age. I thought to myself, that could be Elly (and Mhaira) someday soon. It brought me a great amount of joy – the thought of having Elly there by our side, studying and learning from some of the greatest at this craft. And I thought, wow, she is probably going to be making her own arrangements for prom one day, maybe even the arrangements for her own wedding like her mom did once upon a time. To be completely honest, I must admit I also thought about how much easier Valentine's and Mother's Day will be a few years down the road with a few extra helping hands! Yes, maybe one day Elly will take everything we and others have taught her about this crazy business and head our floral design team. (I am not overlooking Mhaira my friends, it's just that the Lord knows that crazy girl is more likely to be operating the Bobcat, playing in the dirt and floods, hopefully someday reviving our greenhouses to their glory days.)
In my heart I know, and even hope I suppose, that Elly and Mhaira are most certainly destined for even greater opportunities than this little ole' florist and greenhouse business has to offer. But it is our family business nevertheless, and if it is meant to be, then we will have made sure it is here for them should they choose it. In the meantime I am going to continue to cherish every moment beside my wife, watching our little girls as they continue to grow and become the women they one day will be. I'll pray the business and my memory stay strong, because I know how quickly the moments pass. And most important of all, I pray that these girls will know their father's and their mother's endless, unconditional and fierce love for them. Happy Birthday Elly! Mommy and Daddy love you!
