Call This Mom


When Lindsey and I first met, we knew we had one specific, common ground, the obvious one, the one that brought us together.

Anyone who knows me, knows I talk a lot for guy and anyone who knows my lovely bride, knows, well… She talks a lot for a girl. From hello, we never struggled to find conversation, we literally talked all night.

The common topics were…

1. What we were going through, what it felt like.
2. What life was like with our spouse.
3. What our goals and ambitions were/are.
4. Music, movies, and shows.
5. And the most talked about because we were living it 24/7… Parenthood. Our amazing kids.

#5 consisted of diaper changes (for all 3), feedings, sleeping habits, the ups, the downs, the personalities, all of that which makes up our gaggle.

From day 1, Lindsey and I had a heavy task ahead of us as far as managing the dynamic of our relationship. Our first priority was what was right for the kids. Just as any single parents knows or those never put in this situation can imagine, you want to protect the kids from getting hurt. You know you can and even though you don’t want that, you especially don’t want that for your kids. And for ours, they had been hurt enough, so our protection meter was a little higher.

After careful deliberation, much prayer, and several visits with just the two of us, Lindsey and I decided to meet each other’s little ones. The plan was for us to meet them on their own turf, just us, then after that, we would collide the 5 of us together.

Because I have an issue with waiting and I don’t have the most amount of patience, I figured out a way to meet Miss Presley Paige first. Now I have experienced two births with Lindsay, holding my child while they experience their first few breaths of life and there is truly nothing like it. This was a new experience, meeting my future daughter, walking, talking, full of personality. Unlike preparing for a new birth, it’s immediately having a face for your love. And that face of love is for lack of a better word, perfect.

I would love to go on about this day and maybe I will later, but today I am painting the picture for something that may be the closest to Heaven I have ever been.

When I was leaving from meeting my favorite daughter, I took a picture to hold on to… one of my beautiful wife and daughter in the garage, watching me leave. The feeling of leaving these two was of complete helplessness. The look on their faces was almost a look of dependence, just like a wife and daughter would give a husband and father. From that day forward, to this day, I carry that image with me. It is what pushes me to lead.

I hope you have a pretty clear picture to this point, because here is where the story begins…

Brody and I are playing in the living room one afternoon. He loves me taking pictures of him and even more when he gets to look at it immediately on my phone. He is two and a half and completely full of himself. He’s standing across the living room and I snap a picture of him. He then runs over and says, ”let me see, let me see.” I close the camera and open the photos on my phone.

As I open the photos, I had one pulled up that I must have been looking at recently. The photo of Lindsey and Presley when I was driving away is sitting there and as I go to swipe to Brody’s picture, he quickly and forcefully pushes his finger against the phone and say’s, ”That’s my mom.” He starts repeatedly saying, ”That’s my mom, that’s my mom.” I say, ”Who’s mom?” and he follows with, ”My mom, that’s my mom, that’s my mom.”

After Lindsay died, Brody would wake up and tell me he was playing with mommy and Jesus. He had very limited vocabulary, so I would ask him, ”What did they look like, what color were they?” He would tell me that ”Mommy is pink and Jesus is blue.” He would tell me, ”Played with mommy and Jesus, but I can’t touch Mommy, her ball is too heavy.”

So knowing this, I kept my mouth shut.

I called Lindsey and told her what I just experienced. There had been other women come over, he had never mentioned anything like this. This was a first and he was very adamant about it. So we decided to pray about it and keep our mouths shut.

A week or so later, it was Lindsey’s turn to come to the house filled with testosterone, footballs, guns, swords and the color blue. My boys were about to get to meet their new mother.

The plan was for her to come over in the evening, we would have supper and introduce the 3 of them. Simple, right? But, what would Brody say or do?

If you have ever met Brody, you know he has the sweetest, most gentle heart that any child could have. And he is a little shy, maybe not as shy as he just likes to do his own thing.

The boys and I are sitting, playing in the living room when there is a knock on the door. Brody runs to the door and the door opens. There is Lindsey (with nerves of steal) to be greeted by a 2 year old. Brody takes her by the hand, walks her to the living room to introduce her to his brother, ”This is my brother Cash.” Then he proceeds to bring his toys one by one to Lindsey and says, ”This is my _____, and this is ______.” and so on and so on.

I am shocked. Mouth to floor and in complete confusion.

This two year old was more prepared for this visit than everyone else in the room.

We move to the dining area and Brody props himself up on Lindsey’s lap. I don’t remember a lot of other voices other than Brody’s to this point.

Seeing that he is obviously the one in control, I say, ”Brody, who is this?”


In love.



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