Say Hey to Byrdie Rae.

…and then there were four.

If you’re keeping score at home, the Franks family just added grandchild #4 to the roster (and the third in the span of the last eight months!).

Byrdie Rae Franks entered our world on Sunday, February 2, sharing her Groundhog Day with Punxsutawney Phil (or Bill Murray if you prefer), and sharing her birthday with her Great-Great-Grandaddy Long, my Mom’s Dad.

The texts started on the Saturday night before, alerting us that labor was … maybe starting? Because this was not my first rodeo, I went straight to bed knowing that we’d be at the hospital before too long.

And we were. 4 a.m. found us stumbling bleary-eyed through the emergency room entrance for what would ultimately be a 19 hour marathon of uncomfortable waiting room chairs and too-familiar cafeteria grilled cheese sandwiches.

We got text updates from and glimpses of our youngest son throughout the day. This son who was just an eight pound bundle a few months back, it seems. This son who has quietly come into his own role as a Dad, renovating a home and readying his heart as he’s waited on his daughter. This son who has loved and cared for his wife as she became a Mom.

And let’s talk about that Mom. There were the nerves and the anxiety and the will-she-ever-get-here worries that are par for the course with all first-time moms. But after 24 hours of labor, she was as glowing as I’ve ever seen her. Walking into that room and seeing her with her spitting image daughter, it was hard to fathom she just went through the pain and trials of childbirth.

Byrdie is, like all babies, snuggly and squeaky and smelly like only a newborn can be. She’s perfectly calm, perfectly content, perfectly perfect. She has settled right into her family of Mom and Dad and a couple of four-legged housemates, taken her throne as the first grand and great-grand on her Mama’s side, and taken her spot as the newest youngest Franks clan baby … a title that’s indeed hard to hold onto for long.

Every time I’ve cradled that baby – and you can bet it’s been a lot – I’ve been struck once again at the absolute miracle that is a newborn life. We’ve been incredibly blessed to see four of those miracles inside of three years. Our family Christmas card – just six people strong in 2019 – jumped to nine and then ten and then twelve and this year – thirteen? Who knows. (We have nine months to hit our quotas, after all.)

And I’m struck with the weight … the challenge … the responsibility as I watch my children raise their children. My first and most desperate prayer for Byrdie is that she comes to know Jesus sooner rather than later, that her “moment of salvation” is a natural, nearly seamless progression based on a childhood immersed in the truth and grace of the gospel, that there’s never a season of her life where she places her hope and trust in anything or anyone other than her Creator.

But for now: cuddles. All the cuddles. All the prayers. All the baby squeaks and smells and snuggles.

Welcome, sweet Byrdie. Pops and Mimi are thrilled you’ve joined our ever-expanding nest!