Ahh, little Lola Leigh. Welcome to the world. We are so (very, very) glad you’re here.
You arrived a bit ahead of schedule, and yet, by the time you made your appearance, your family felt like they’d been waiting a long, long time. That’s because we thought your birthday was going to be on Monday. Then Tuesday. And then finally, Wednesday morning, you decided TODAY is a good day to make my big entry. And goodness, did we ever cheer!!
There’s a whole story about your arrival. Some of it will be your Mama’s to tell. But I’ll say this. SHE WAS AMAZING. Wow. I mean, when it comes to doing the hard work of bringing a baby into the world with grace and grit and patience… she is a true hero. I learned a lot from your Mommy these past few days. Because I was a witness to all of it.
I was there, along with your Mimi. (And Auntie Kayla for part of the time, until she had to go home to take care of her own baby.) And of course, Daddy. If you think that’s a lot of people to invite to the party, you’re probably right. But your Mama is a brave woman, and she’d done this three times before, and the last time (when your brother Bo was being born) everything was so quick and easy, which is why your parents just figured it would be extra special to share the experience with a few of the people who love you most.
Being there was an unbelievable blessing. I’m still soaking up every precious detail of the miracle. From beginning to end—a miracle. Although not exactly the miracle we expected. (Which I should probably tell you, is definitely the thing about miracles. They practically never turn out the way we humans would expect, and are way more like epic God-surprises. And when you look back on them later you have to laugh a bit at how they’ve unfolded.)
The thing is, Lola… when we arrived at the birth center on Monday morning we were all pretty sure (and that includes the midwife) that you were almost here. I mean we were READY!! Like… camera set for the perfect lighting…playlist ready on Spotify…Daddy ready to catch the baby… ready, set, here we go…
I should have caught on to the fact that it might be a while when your Daddy asked me for my Chipotle order. Honesty, Lola. This was the funniest thing. I was like, “Who can eat at a time like this? Can’t we just wait until after this baby is here?” But then I thought (and probably said it out loud)—it would be just the thing for an Anderson baby to be brought into this world smelling like a burrito bowl. You’ll know what I mean sooner than later. So whatever.
What I remember, too, about that first morning, is the most wonderful experience of worship. On our way to the birth center we’d all been talking about how childbirth can be so much more than pain and labor, and even for the mama who’s doing the really hard work, there can be a beautiful sense of God’s presence. “The veil between heaven and earth is especially thin at the birth of a baby.” That’s how your Mommy said it. And that’s what all of us were thinking as we prepared for your birth Monday morning. (And later, too. But I’ll get to that in a minute.)
There was a beautiful song playing as everyone prepared for your arrival…
You've been just that good, You're good to me
You've been just that good, so good to me
Lord, without Your love, where would I be?
Oh my God, You've sure been good to me*
Your Daddy chose that song because a few days earlier your whole family had been singing it together and it was a really special time. He had tears in his eyes when he told me about it, and I was so happy my eyes welled up, too, and I was praying, “Thank you, God, thank you.” And then I looked at your sweet Mommy and she was really crying—and you could just tell she was worshipping Jesus with all of her heart. Thinking about you. It was one of those moments I’ll never forget as long as I live. And even though it would take another 42 hours (give or take) for you to arrive… I’ll always remember your birth song.
I will remember, too, the soft brown sweater I ended up wearing for three days straight, and how grateful I was I’d chosen comfortable shoes for the day(s) of your birth. Because even though that big old house where you’d eventually be born felt a bit like a “Bed & Breakfast”—not one of us was thinking we’d be spending a night (and for sure not two)…which you could tell by how light we were traveling. But I guess that’s just how it is with surprises!
Papi was surprised, too. He wasn’t really planning on a sleepover with your sister and brothers when he left the house Monday morning. And later we realized we’d forgotten all about Maple. It was very late when I saw Papi’s text, saying we’d left the dog to fend for herself for a whole day and night. Oops. But she’s a very good dog, and she was totally fine when the neighbors went to fetch her in the morning.
Both of your Grandpas were heroes, too. They took turns packing lunches and driving to school and making sure everyone got to bed on time. When your nurses found out about a sister and two brothers, and the Grandpas at home, their smiles got big, and they’d say, “Little Lola has a pretty special family.” And they were right.
Speaking of your name. There’s a little story about that, too. Your Mommy and Daddy meant to keep it a secret, but over time, it sort of slipped out. First just the “L”—which is what we called you while you were in Mama’s womb. Then about a week ago Daddy slipped up and called you Lola in front of Maisy, and she tried very hard to keep it a secret. But by the second day of being picked up from school, and still no baby, Maisy couldn't stand it any longer. “I’m telling you, Papi. My baby sister’s name is Lola.”
Lola Leigh. I found out while we were waiting, too. You share a middle name with Nana, and it makes me so proud, I can hardly explain it. When I had my babies inside my womb, all of our girl names included Leigh. But we never got to use them, being a family of only boys. And of course I loved being a boy mom, but I’ve got to tell you—having a Lola Leigh is a dream come true.
Looking back there are explanations for why you seemed so eager to come, and then you ended up waiting. And waiting. Every hour (day and night) a nurse would come in to listen to your little heart beat, and they’d tell us you were doing great. No one seemed worried. And your mama was very, very patient. But by Tuesday afternoon everyone agreed it would be in your best interest to give you a nudge… and by our second sleepless bedtime it seemed like things might be finally progressing. For the next several hours Mimi and Nana watched their grown-up children do the serious work of preparing for a baby to enter the world.
And then, very, very early Wednesday morning, we could tell it was almost time. The midwife, Heather, became very serious. Daddy chose a peaceful playlist, with songs to remind us of Jesus. Both of your grandmas waited on the edges, ready to help, but only when asked. One nurse arrived, and then God send another. And your sweet brave mama breathed and labored until that veil was ripped open, and a child from heaven was delivered to earth.
There was a moment, Lola… a part of the story I’m sure you’ll hear often as you’re growing up. None of us are sure what exactly happened. One scary moment when your little heart slowed… perhaps stopping. Your mama and that wise midwife worked so hard together… getting you to move around in your womb…
And while they worked, the rest of us were praying. Mimi prayed, and Nana prayed, and Daddy was praying his heart out, too. Later we’d find out Papi was awake praying right then, and so was Great-Grammy. And you need to know this, too. Right by the bed where you were born there was a nurse on her knees PRAYING EXTRA just for you. She was a nurse we’d met on Monday, who was called in special for your delivery on Wednesday… and she was on her knees talking to your Father the moment you were born.
I’ll never forget any of it. The beautiful hard work and the prayers and the music, and the way you slipped out of that womb and you were finally here, and how right away you let out the most glorious SCREAM. And I think I might have screamed a little, too, with sheer relief and joy. Exactly the way Jesus said it would happen:
When a woman is in labor, she has pain because her time has come. But when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the suffering because of the joy that a person has been born into the world (John 16:21).
Joy. Joy. Joy.
A miracle, Lola. That’s what you are.
*Sure Been Good by Elevation Worship
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