To My Micah {Family Letters Part III}

Click on the links to read To My Husband {Family Letters Part I} and To My Abby {Family Letters Part II}.


Mama has been struggling to write your letter. You are the baby that has taught me something fiercer, something gentler, something braver, something more tender than anything that has come before. I have no words. For the love. The fierce love.

Perhaps your birth has something to do with it. My heart will never forget the moments I was afraid you wouldn’t make it. Those moments are frozen in time. The fierceness with which I fought for your life has held fast during the sweet 10 months of your life. hasz17_110.jpg

Can you believe it? You reached your 10 month mark this weekend, and your baby-ways are fading to make room for a curious toddler to emerge. You are all things boy. Noisy. Constantly grunting and often jabbering. You love the sound of the blender and any machine that makes your sister run from the room to find somewhere quieter to play. You, on the other hand, smile and giggle at the mechanical motor whirring away. You bang spoons together, crash your sister’s towers, and noisily demand more food with fists on your high chair. You stopped nursing on August 13th at 8 months old – the same day you began to crawl. You just didn’t have time to fill your belly that way.  hasz17_107.jpg

But, you snuggle your face in my neck when you are tired and stretch your arms wide around my chest in a silent request for cuddles and rest. You have more introverted tendencies than your party-loving sister, and I’m dreaming of mommy-son movie dates in the future with snacks and cozy blankets while your sister galavants about town with friends. If I’m honest, part of me would always like to keep you to myself.

It may already be true that I have a hard time imagining any woman measuring up to my standards for you. So, just deal with that. Plan for it. Arm her with all manner of bribery and flattery. But, seriously… Because, I will always be your greatest champion, but expect me to be your girlfriend’s initial greatest assessor – judge and jury combined. As a former middle school teacher, I know you will grow up and need your space. Your room for sloppy homework and hairstyles. Your time to question and wonder and experiment. But, for now, you are held close to my beating heart. When you walk away, my heart will walk with you.

And, now I weep. hasz17_113.jpg

hasz17_121.jpgI believe your heart will fight for those without voices. I believe your voice will speak words of healing and strength to the brokenhearted. I believe you will love with the same deep loyalty that runs strong through your daddy’s heart. I have prayed these prayers over you with the same mother’s heart that wished you would not know of broken hearts and injustices. But I would also not have you grow up with your head in the sand. We live in a world that needs lionhearted men to make a difference. Be a difference-maker. hasz17_133.jpg

You are a truly happy baby. A contented child. An easily-amused little one. 

You currently sit in front of my computer in your high chair, blond curls askew from a morning nap. You raise your eyes to the kitchen light and giggle as it flickers. Your chubby fingers are coated in chicken stew, and you mirthfully shove handfuls into your smiling mouth. You make contented noises and happy sighs as you grip soft peas, carrots, and potatoes, eating two-fisted in your delight.

You ARE delight. Sunshine. Laughterhasz17_123.jpg


hasz17_132.jpgMicah, I think you are one of the few people that smile when I dance to my ridiculous Spotify playlists. You have a special relationship with Grammy and Pop’s dog, who is going to miss all of the food you slip him from your high chair once we move away in the coming months. You are extremely frustrated when your sister leaves you in the dust, and you crawl with a purpose toward her new location. She can make you laugh like no one else can. You spent most of our family photo session eating grass and moving with determination away from our blanket in the fall leaves. You hate your face being cleaned, but you love smearing food in your ears, nose, and hair. It’s chaotically adorable.

It’s Perfection.



hasz17_146.jpgMicah, you appreciate all foods except for mashed potatoes. With great abandon, you consume mass quantities of berries, fish, eggs, ground meat, chicken, spicy dips, crackers, diced veggies, Rediwhip (I know. I know. Not exactly health food.), fuzz balls, anything yucky on the floor, whatever your sister doesn’t eat on her plate, and gulps and gulps of water. You amaze me with your size. After your sister’s premie birth and smaller stature, your growth, hunger, and trajectory shock me. Apparently, I will forever need to shop at Costco. At this last appointment, your head came in at the 99th percentile (that’s down from last appointment’s measurement. LOL.), your height at the 85th percentile, and your weight in the 64th percentile. What. Am. I. Going. To. Feed. You. And your friends.

For the love… hasz17_150.jpg

hasz17_164.jpgBut bring your friends home and make forts in our backyard one day. Climb trees and chase balls. Love your Savior more than you love any Earthly pleasure or person or pursuit. Give generously. Guard your heart. But when you choose to love, never give up. Call your Daddy for advice, and then immediately afterward check with your mom. JK. Call me for comfort,  but learn early to lean on Jesus to hold you tight. I’m counting on that, kiddo, as your adventures have just begun. hasz17_144.jpg

Micah, find other wise men and women in your life and learn everything you can from them. Embrace community even when it’s messy and overwhelming. Serve others and elevate the least in society. Dance often. Laugh even more. And don’t you dare ever forget to hug your mother. I will come after you in your sleep. And hug you. Be warned.

Know that no matter how tall you grow or famous you become, I will always remember the baby I snuggled through the night. The small hands that slipped themselves around my chest. The tiny fingers that intertwined themselves in my hair and held fast. The eyes that blinked big and blue – so much like my own. The dimples in your cheeks – so much like your daddy’s and sister’s. Your dark eyelashes. The single blonde curl that played peek-a-boo with your wild strands at the tippy, tip top of your fair head. hasz17_187.jpg

I love you Micah David Hasz.

Always and forever.

{Family photography by Haven: Life & Photo}

One thought on “To My Micah {Family Letters Part III}

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  1. Lauren, This is so beautiful. Your family is beautiful. And this letter puts into words so many of the emotions I have toward little Gideon as he approaches just two months old. I love your honesty and the openness that you use to share. I love that you already think about your babies growing up and leaving and that you grieve in a sense. People have laughed at me for doing just that, but this is how I know you’re my kindred spirit. I love you.

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