OMSH

I’m not one of those Mommas who remember the DAY of the week her child was born; the date, of course – the day of the week, no. I also don’t remember birth weights, head circumference or body length. There are documents and journal entries to attest to those facts, I tend to toss them aside to make room for the “real” memories.

I remember moments…like the first time I wrapped my palm around their heads, the curve and dimples in their tiny bums, the swell of their bellies, the shape of their toes and pads of their feet, the first time they made their voices known, the first time our eyes met, and I cry each time I think of this one – but I remember Jeff’s face, full of tears, at each of our babies’ births – pure, unadulterated tears of absolute joy, pride, and awe.

When this post about Meredith began forming in my mind…one of the first things I wondered was what day of the week she was born. Thanks to the endless stream of useless trivia, a.k.a. the internet, it took me about 30 seconds to discover Meredith was born on a Tuesday.

While this is seemingly insignificant to you, it makes me smile from ear to ear. Meredith’s name was sealed in our minds MONTHS before she was born. Jeff chose Meredith and I chose Grace – she is our Meredith Grace.

Born on a Tuesday.

What makes me smile is how the name “just so happens” to fit the poem, Monday’s Child. Do you remember it?

Monday’s child is fair of face,
Tuesday’s child is full of grace,
Wednesday’s child is full of woe,
Thursday’s child has far to go,
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

You may call it chance, but I call it evidence of God’s sovereignty.

Tuesday’s child is full of grace, indeed.

Meredith is my middle child.

Born 3 1/2 years after Emelie and 2 years before Kenny, she is firmly set right in the middle of her siblings.

When she was born, my mother (Izzy) and I called her “pretty in pink”; Meredith’s skin WAS a soft shade of pink – and pink, beyond a shadow of a doubt, became Meredith’s signature color. Not “girly” with lace and ruffles, she embraces all things feminine and glitzy…the girl loves “bling” – and if you can blend PINK and BLING together? She’s sold!

Of my three babies, Meredith was all mine. And when I say she was “all mine” I mean she would have no other – not Jeff, not grandparents, not close friends…she wanted me and me alone. It was both exhausting and exhilarating to be so wanted and needed by this little Goldilocks.

Reserved in her first five years, her first grade year marked a change – she quite literally stepped out from behind the shadow of my legs and displayed a whole new side to her person; outgoing, personable, expressive, and secure.

We have since decided Meredith has two personalities – and not in a Cybil kind of way, but in an “I’m a complex, beautiful, daughter of the King!” kind of way. She is quick to embrace new people and opportunities, but is easily embarrassed or hurt and retreats quickly to her room to gather her strength to face the world again. And while the retreat is loud and rather “in your face” at times, the return is swift and forgiving; she holds no grudges.

I’ve learned to embrace both sides to her rich character knowing full well my parents managed the same extremes in my nature growing up.

One thing I adore about Meredith is her ability to let go of inhibitions and explore new experiences. This girl likes to move her body and dive head first into life.

From taking on the surf, to dance (oh how she has always loved to dance), and a bit of everything else tossed in between.

Every adventure is worth the “taking” and she rushes in, giddy with anticipation.

Then there is a very tender side to Meredith – an incredible blessing for her future husband, children, and extended family. Meredith has a maternal instinct a mile wide. While other little girls her age were begging for lipstick and cell phones at Christmas, she wanted a baby doll.

Yes, you read right – a baby doll.

Because she was cloth diapered and she saw her brother raised up in cloth diapers, she wanted a full set of cloth diapers, cloth baby wipes, and a child-size Moby Wrap.

She cares after Isabella – carrying her with her, taking her on strolls, changing her diaper, and appointing Angel (her American Girl) as babysitter when she will be away. I am convinced each of my children have a path to walk – born for a purpose…I imagine one of Meredith’s is to marry and raise children with that powerful mothering instinct already so firmly in place.

Rest assured, I can wait for that day – there are many more memories to be made in the meantime – and besides, I find great joy watching her practice.

As an only child I have no idea what it is like to be the middle child – to have an older sibling that gets to do things “first” and a younger brother who will always be the “baby”. I imagine it might feel a bit like being lost in a crowd; I hope she doesn’t feel lost.

Meredith is the perfect union of her other two siblings; she balances them perfectly in her own unique way; she is my blue-eyed, blonde-hair babe.

She is my Meredith.