Gabrielle

Gabrielle was over due--by a lot.  At least two weeks.  She finally arrived with water-wrinkled fingers, the kind babies get when too long in the womb.  After getting to know her, I concluded her spirit wasn't leaving Heaven until she had every single bit of last minute instruction.  She was not coming in haste but completely prepared.

She was unhurried about life, too, and stayed close to me or dad as she watched and observed.  She was nearly three when Jared arrived.

And she did notice things.  As a little girl, when GG and Grandpa came for dinner after church, at the table she told them, "On Sundays we always have the Meat Group."  

With so much going on in our busy family, she learned independence.  She wasn't demanding but she knew what she wanted and if we didn't move on it, she quietly found a way.  

Looking back, I'm the most amazed by her practicing piano.  It wasn't that she adored music, but she knew to do it. It's significant to me because I found music practice or homework routines so difficult.  Once or twice I left a little bag of treats at the piano to reinforce her diligence.  Now that I see her as a mom, I see she actually likes the order and the routine.

Another case in point, in high school she wanted braces and although we didn't think them necessary, she made an appointment with Dr. Christian, DDS, and made it happen.

She looked ahead.  For school elections, candidates couldn't pass out treats, so she brought cupcakes for Valentines or whenever, often remembering birthdays.  She worked to be successful.

We knew she was methodical and determined, but our first hint that she would broaden her sphere came with HOBY.  We sat with the other parents in the Park City conference room on a Sunday afternoon as they announced various standouts.  When they came to the culminating awards, the two students from Utah chosen to go to HOBY International, the announcer said, "And from Dixie High School..."  Dad abruptly elbowed me, he was so excited.  We both were.  Afterward a parent who was sitting near me said, by way of congratulations, "I saw that tear!"

A "big sister," too.

One of my favorite Gabby stories occurred later on.  In New York while getting her hair done, she learned her beautician grieved about upcoming Mother's Day because she had lost her only baby at birth. Was she still a mother, she asked?  After Gabby left the shop she brought back a little plant with a card saying  "Happy Mother's Day! Your daughter will always be yours."  We learned the story from an LDS friend who used the same hairdresser and heard it from her. 

I love you, Gabby.