Tag Archives: baby

today: My Sister Had a Baby



Betsy Claire decided to be born on a Friday. The day before my sister Bridget told me she felt different, that she thought the baby would come early. Bridget was just shy of 36 weeks pregnant, so she thought early meant in a couple of weeks. I got a text in the middle of the night: her water had broken. I awoke that morning after a fitful sleep at 5 a.m. and saw the text. I called Bridget, prayed with her and spent the day waiting to hear Betsy had arrived.

Our family prayed and hoped that all would be well, that her tiny lungs would be ready, that she wouldn’t need any time in the NICU. Babies who decide to come early sometimes need a bit of help.

Not Betsy. She arrived ready to go. Bridget’s labor was relatively easy. Betsy was all-together lovely, a pretty little baby with a gorgeous disposition. Everyone who meets her falls in love the minute the see her fluffy red hair and huge blue eyes. She’s calm and laid back and much loved by her mom and dad and brother and by all the aunties and uncles she inherited by birthright.

Our family needed a baby, I think. Jakey, my youngest brother just turned twelve, and all us Blinn kids grew up with a deep rooted affection for babies. It’s not that we all long for a baker’s dozen of kids like our mom had. It’s just that we see all the grace and beauty and hope of what could be when we stare at a newborn face. Few things bring greater wonder than cradling brand new life. Our hearts collectively cry “yes,” an affirmation that we see evidence of good in a world proclaimed to be just that from the beginning.

This is something I love about my family, our open arms towards the littlest of humanity. We tend to be rough around the edges and opinionated, but every last one of us softens around a baby.

I get to hold babies and photograph them day in and day out when I go to work, and I marvel at every last one of them, breathing prayers of thanks to a God who knew that new life beckons tenderness and gentleness, awe and warmth. I get to witness miracles in the expansion of love that engulfs a family when they add a little one.

The miracle named Betsy Claire who joined our family brought a brand new tiny miracle into our family, and I think about her and find myself celebrating life. It is good to see her. Life is a gift, and here she is, amazing and alive. Here she is, ours.


today: bellingham? yes, please.

“It’s not so much that we’re afraid of change or so in love with the old ways, but it’s that place in between that we fear . . . . It’s like being between trapezes. It’s Linus when his blanket is in the dryer. There’s nothing to hold on to.”
-Marilyn Ferguson

Everyone, maybe, has places where they should stop and put their feet up for a while. They are places where regrouping is possible. They are home or away from home. They are familiar and foreign. They are safe. They are dangerous. Bellingham is one of my places, because of the people who live here, not so much because of the mountains and the coffee and the parks and the trails and the water and the…

Bellingham already had people, and now some of those people have a new baby girl. I love her. It’s an amazing thing to be around when a family becomes just that, growing from two to three, figuring out what that looks like, adjusting to less sleep and more love. It puts life into perspective to watch the way a little person so radically transforms things. She makes me hope for a bright future. She makes me want things for the world that are bigger and fuller than my selfish ambition. It’s utterly disarming in the most compelling way.

Hanging out with Carla has never been difficult, and adding her little one into the mix only adds value to my life. I love that. I am here to help out, which I may or may not be doing, but we are passing days simply. We eat and sleep. Dishes accumulate then are washed. The laundry never stops. My camera is within arm’s reach at all times. Yesterday we went for a walk, today, another one. We drink copious amounts of coffee. We are passing days simply, but somehow I think this is where God intended us to live: quietly and in community.

God amazes me in the ways He is kind. With all that is going on in my life, I am thankful for this massive change who came in a baby package for Carla and her hubby Johnny. She is reminding me of what matters. It’s people and love and rhythm and peace. I think being in Bellingham is reteaching me to see. The days pass simply, and the fullness is rich. I’m reminded there are things worth holding onto. Thankfully. Fully.