So when the Apocalypse of 2020 descended upon us and it was clear this crew was quarantined for the long haul, we came up with a splendid plan. And like all splendid plans, we incorporated donuts. Truth be told, I didn’t have to convince not one single Hucks in this household to participate.

We declared 8 Fridays. Chose 8 Donut Shops in Charlotte. And made a scorecard. Tucker helped me choose the places, based on names and wesbite pictures. We checked them all to make sure online and contactless pickup were options (they were!) and we set out. We did the work for you, labored hard (and often) in an effort to taste, score and photograph our findings. It was hard work. You’re welcome. Friends, below are the results of what heretofore shall be known as the Hucks Donut Challenge of 2020.

A few caveats:

1. No one paid us to do this
2. We each rated the donuts based on the following categories:
   • Taste
   • Price
   • Topping Selection
   • Look
   • Flavors
3. We ordered a variety of donuts and split them between the panel for the very stringent judging.
4. Results are, but the findings of 4 Hucks in this household-no other formal research, surveys or studies were consulted.
5. While some donuts scored higher than others at the end of the day, is there really a bad donut? I think not.

Okey dokey. Here we go. We’ll countdown. If you are impatient, final rankings are at the bottom of this post.

First Up-Dunkin Donuts-chosen by donut lover, Tucker Hucks. There’s no denying the colorful marketing and toppings work for this 8 year old. He was excited about our first stop. We ordered online (the night before) and set the pickup time-it was very social distancing friendly. Overall, scores reflected that the shorter Hucks liked these donuts a little more than the other judges.

Dunkin Donuts

Overall Rank: #8

Judges Notes: Price per donut was great! They put a LOT of “prinkles” on, mommy.

Coming in next is Sugar Handmade Donuts, a shop we had never tried. Their donuts, like the name hints, are hand rolled and cut, then fried throughout the day and their fillings are also homemade recipes. This undoubtedly, is why they were voted Best Donut in Charlotte in 2016 by Charlotte Magazine. Our distinguished panel found them to be on the pricey side which lowered their score and we were divided on taste. Some on the panel thought the flavors were somewhat limited and that they were a smidge too yeasty.

Sugar Handmade Donuts

Ranking: #7

Judges Notes: “These are HUGE!” Cookies and cream were a fave. “Look” scored high. Price-Moderate.

Coming in at #7 is the cutest neighborhood donut window on the list. Reigning Donuts is a walkup shop that makes donuts fresh daily AND bonus they’re open day and night. The donuts are cute and simple and delicious (personal fave-honey glaze). They also have fun daily flavors like Apple Pie, Hot Sauce Icing with Chicken Skins (for real) and Peanut Butter Banana. Its clear why they regularly make Charlotte’s Top Donut lists. The judges were harsh in scoring toppings and flavors-there are but 6 flavors to choose, and while all of them are fantastic, with only one option for sprinkles, that was just too egregious for some of the judges.

Reigning Donuts

Ranking: #6

Judges Notes: Vanilla glazed were 10. Scored high in taste, low in toppings. Perfect size. “well there are a LOT of sprinkles on it”. Hot and fresh!

Our only tie on the list was between the former and our next shop, Pepperbox Donuts. In a trendy part of town, this shop is one of the more sophisticated around with chef inspired flavors like Olive Oil with Tangerine Glaze and Cinnamon Spice Maple Bourbon. Not to worry kids, there is also a healthy (ahem) variety of sprinkled and filled flavors. They scored well in taste and look. The donuts are the yeasty variety and they heavy up on the toppings to the delight of our panel.

Pepperbox Donuts

Ranking: #5

Judges Notes: Strawberry and Salted Caramel brownie were faves. Pricing-Moderate at $3 per.

When I was a little girl, I knew it was going to be a special day when a green and white polka dot box showed up in the house. Krispy Kreme was born just down the road and it is to NC what Dunkin Donuts is to some of our northern friends. My dad’s favorite were and still are, the chocolate glazed. My fave is the basic, hot, glazed Krispy Kreme donut. One caveat, I will not eat a Krispy Kreme donut that is even one day old. It must be fresh and it must be hot-so as to melt into your teeth. The judges scored these high in taste, price and flavors. While it may seem odd that a chain donut shop landed above some of these custom shops, I offer this: they are good. they are cheap. and I am nostalgic. It’s my list-disagree? Make your own list.

Krispy Kreme

Ranking: #4

Judges Notes: If the Hot sign is on, pull over. Glazed still has my heart. Kids pick: Cake Batter filled with sprinkles. Duh. Scored high in price ($11.49 per dozen assorted) and flavors

Ok, we’re down to the Top Three, and friends, it was close. This next shop just opened last year and they are pretty amazing. Down for Donuts makes homemade donuts and other baked goods every single day and when they’re out, they’re out-so order early. Two days a week, I’m told you will find apple fritters as big as your face on the menu and they sell out within hours of opening. Alas, that day is not Friday which was our day of choice.

Down for Donuts is owned by high school sweethearts, Lisa and David, whose son, Zach wanted to open a donut shop. Zach, and most of the Down for Donuts employees live, thrive, contribute and work with physical and intellectual disabilities. The shop assists the Exceptional Children’s Teachers & Occupational Course of Study at the local high school. And let me tell you, they make some darn good donuts. They scored exceptionally high in taste, price and flavors. I’ll be back. On a Wed or Thurs. To get those face-sized apple fritters.

Down for Donuts

Ranking: 3

Judges Notes: Cookies and Cream. Hard Stop. “Mommy, this chocolate is insane” Scored high in taste, flavors and price.

Number 2 might cause rumblings. Many friends will say they are hands down the best donut in Charlotte and maybe even the entire state. My first encounter with Your Mom’s Donuts was 4-5 years ago when I bribed Tucker into going to the Davidson Farmer’s Market with me one Saturday morning. If he went with, I would get him a donut from the YMD stall that I knew was there. Since that time, if I ever say I’m going to the Farmer’s Market, Tucker asks if he can go…because he wants their donut.

Your Mom’s Donuts are known as a craft donut, offering a variety of donuts made with locally sourced ingredients from nearby farms (love). They scored high in every single category. Except price. The square donuts with itty bitty holes (I’m a fan) are huge and flavors change each week with fun twists like Pumpkin Black Sesame, Color Changing Lemonhead and Salted Caramel. My personal favorite is the Vanilla Bean Glazed-you can see the flecks of vanilla bean and it is heavenly.

Your Mom’s Donuts

Ranking: #2

Judges Notes: “Why did you only get 6 mommy?” Faves: Salted Caramel, Milk Chocolate Ganache & did I say? Vanilla. Bean. Flecks. Scored high in taste, low in price ($3.75 per)

We’ve reached the end. And if you are a donut lover in Charlotte, you no doubt noticed one fave was missing above. When it comes to all the categories on our list, there was one shop that scored high in all of them and it happens to be one of our go-to shops. Duck Donuts has been a Hucks fave since they opened about 15 minutes away. Made to order, a zillion combinations, so hot you have to agonizingly wait for them to cool before you eat them and…lots of “prinkle” options.

We love Duck Donuts. In the end, from the judges table, the ability to customize your own glaze, topping and drizzle sent this shop over the top. You want bacon on top of your chocolate glaze with a maple drizzle? Done. You want coconut topping your blueberry glaze with a marshmallow drizzle? You got it. Plain glazed? Heaven. Chocolate Peanut Butter with Oreo topping and hot fudge drizzle. I’ll take 2. Seasonal flavors? No problem. And…all this bliss in a box for $13.50 a dozen. Glaze Me Now.

Duck Donuts

Ranking: #1

Judges Notes: Faves: Vanilla Glaze+Oreo+Fudge Drizzle, Vanilla Glaze + “Prinkles”+ Marshmallow Drizzle. Price, Flavor Combo and Taste landed this in our Top Spot.

While our results may not be your’s (and we are not open to a recount), I know we can agree that Donuts Are Everything. Especially right now. During this year that is handing us all a big bag of yuck, this was a bright spot. The smell, the colors, the fun flavors, the anticipation, the judging-it broke up our weeks of quarantine and made us…happy. The kids proved to be tough judges and we practiced some math along the way (but not that Common Core array, tape diagram mess-who even knows when we would have arrived at an answer using that ridiculousness).

We hope you enjoyed the list and we think all of these shops are worth a stop! Approximately 7 minutes after we tallied up all the scores at the end of the 8 weeks, the kids had one question-“Mommy, Daddy, can we do this again with Ice Cream?????”

Hucks Ice Cream Challenge…Summer 2021.

Official Results

13 is our jam. We do Valentines on the 13th, celebrate our 13 birthdays and don’t mind one tiny bit when our anniversary lands on Friday the 13th. Four months out of the year, I circle star and heart 13’s on the calendar. Our kids, couldn’t get with the program and were NOT born on 13’s but we have overlooked this disobedience.

This brings us to our 13th wedding anniversary. The one we decided a few years ago we would celebrate big instead of 10 or 15. Our destination: Austin, TX. We love food. We love music. We love over-the-top. (read: Heather loves over the top). So a kid-less week of eating our way through Austin with live music every night felt perfect for 13.

Welp.

13 years looks like this:

• It looks like the HEAPING stack of dishes tonight that Darrin will do-not because it’s his turn or because it’s our anniversary. It’s just that the sink needs emptying and I’m making dinner tonight.
• It looks like color coded schedules because we’ve been in a damn pandemic for 73 months and we have conference calls and school and a free range toddler.
• It looks like the two of us tag teaming Tucker’s remote assignments today because we’re partners and we share the responsibility and privilege of being his parents.
• It looks like the shared grief and scars of miscarriages and failed adoptions.
• It looks like sitting next to a NICU isolette for 5 months-there is one other human on this Earth that shares with me the exact experience of that trauma-and it is him.
• It looks like commitment and respect and friendship.
• It looks like giving and taking and dirty diapers.

And tonight. It will look like two 40 somethings, eating grilled chicken, putting the kids to bed and flipping a coin to see whether it’s Cobra Kai or Schitt’s Creek.

It ain’t Austin City Limits, but it’s something. And I’ll take it with Darrin Hucks every single time. Happy 13, love.

It’s not something I inwardly debate, it’s automatic. 5 years ago that would’ve seemed odd to me, and it may seem odd to you-in fact, it prompted me to write this piece. Because, when people know or understand that Molly was adopted, 9 times out of 10, the question they ask is, “Do you still talk to her mom?”. (PS-I am her mom). But I get it-it’s the one thing people want to wrap their heads around. People are most curious about the relationship I have or don’t have with Molly’s birthmom.

Open adoptions have become the most common adoption type over the last 20 years. But the concept makes the water murky for people outside of adoption stories. Just the term “open” adoption brings with it misconceptions and interpretations that are unfamiliar. Sometimes people associate notions of co-parenting or temporary parenting to open adoptions, neither of which are true.

The simplest definition of open adoption is an adoption where the birthmom and adoptive parents have access to some personal identification about each other. In the beginning, that personal information is typically first names and home state. From there, every open adoption becomes a plan-one that is defined by the birthparents, the adoptive parents and the child. Some decide on no contact. Some decide on no contact until the child reaches out. Some decide annual letters and pictures via an agency is appropriate. Others decide annual or semi-annual visits work best for their situation. The degree to which more personal information about each other is revealed is totally up to the two families involved.

What open adoptions are not:

1. Co-parenting-we are Molly’s mom and dad. No decisions about our raising of her are made outside of the two of us.
2. Temporary-no open adoption is temporary. Temporary parenting situations are in the fostering category
3. Mandated-no agency mandates that an adoption be open or stay open. Ultimately, the adoptive parents and birthparents make that plan-but even then, adoptive parents have the choice to follow through with that plan based on circumstance.
4. Weird-open adoptions are not weird or strange. It may seem different outside of your own circumstance, but open adoptions can be very normal and healthy for the child

So, now that we got that out of the way, let me tell you why I send Molly’s birthmom pictures and videos and handprint art. It’s because she loves Molly. I know that other than me and Darrin, there is one person who wants to see that video more than anyone else. And it’s her. We have decided together over Molly’s almost 3 years how our connection would look. She is graceful in her approach and never crosses boundaries. We take it slowly and know it may take different shapes as Molly grows.

I don’t know how other open adoptions look. In my circle of adoption friends, none of our open adoptions look the same. What I know is that we navigate our relationships with birthmoms differently based on circumstance and what works best for us. Adoption family dynamics are different for each family just like traditional family dynamics-we’re all figuring it out on the regular.

So, yes. I talk to her. It’s what works for our family. It’s safe and sweet and right for us. It lays a foundation for honesty and openness in the answers we’ll have for Molly’s questions one day. Its the right choice for us, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t complex-there are insecurities on all sides. But at the center of this lifelong connection is sweet Molly. So by doing it, the core of my motherhood is nourished.

Yes. I talk to her. I am Molly’s mom, forever and ever until the end of time. She gave life and personality and lord help us, probably Kansas Jayhawk blood to Molly. Our connection is our’s. Just our’s. Today, on Mother’s Day, I’ll send her a text and a picture of the stubborn and sassy girl that she chose for me to have. I’ll say thank you again because it will never be too much. I’ll tell her how Molly runs up and says “I’m sorry, Mommy!” and then runs away so that I have to go find what she’s sorry about. I’ll wish her a happy Mother’s Day because today is about both of us.

Yes. I talk to her. Without her, our family would have played out differently. I send her parts of Molly because she gave me Molly. That little voice singing about “wemon dwops” and “shimney tops” are gifts from her. And I want her to see the gifts I’ve given Molly too-she finds fullness and peace in seeing how Molly fits perfectly in our family-I know, because she tells me.

Yes. I talk to her. She is the reason that the dreams that I dared to dream really did come true.

Molly’s Over the Rainbow-Click here

She runs this household. Make no mistake, her presence is not quiet or unassuming and abso-dang-lutely not withering. These months of moving into toddler-hood have strengthened her strong will and persistence to a degree that tries my barely-there sanity. She will zero to rage scream in .2 seconds. “They” say the tenacity she has will serve her well as an adult. One day I’ll be thankful for that. But not today. Not in this Target checkout.

While I’m kidding(?), the fact is- her scrappy pants attitude is a gift. I LOVE IT. She will not be pushed around. She’s a fireball. Those big brown eyes and pouty lips mean you’re done-just done. She will not let you, for one second, slip something by her. Just try and give her the unfrosted Pop Tart. Ain’t having it. She’s strong willed. No doubt in my almost-lost mind. For me, strong will, persistence, scrappy-ness- all of those belong in the JACKPOT column of tools to pull out of the purse of an independent woman.

Strong women. We roar. We yell and protest and write and petition about injustice, intolerance, inequity, insanity, incapability, incompetence, insurance-all the “in’s”. We stand in our heels or Vans or Rothys (worth it, not even kidding) and we go all Katniss Everdeen on whatever or whoever needs it-“in our opinion”. We roar because we want to be heard. We roar for our kids, our marriage, our beliefs, our boobs, our friendships, lord knows our politics.

We know our collective female perspective hasn’t been considered so. many. dang. times. Even now, our roar is oft dismissed, “spectacle”, “emotional” , “defensive”.

It’s good to be heard. To opine loudly and often against inequity. I mean Katy Perry didn’t write a song about it for nothin’.

Sometimes we point our roar in the wrong direction-pouncing on the women and mamas who believe and live differently than our den. The tone turns snarky. It becomes less powerful, instead of being used for goodness, it tumbles out as the ugliest sound of all. Judgement. We disguise it as moral ire but it’s just loud judgement. I’ve done it and it’s the worst.

How do I teach Molly the difference? The spaces between virtuous conviction and judgmental ranting can be thin. What’s the best way to teach her how to support our girl troop, protect her tenets, still be broad minded with room to not only understand but embrace (and even adopt) divergent perspectives.

As I reflected on Molly’s two-ness, and the new year upon us, I realized she’s been given a story from the moment she first took air that might help.

Molly took her first breath in a room full of women. Arguably, every one of us brought a strong perspective about what was about to go down in there. Our’s was a distinct departure from what typically happens in a labor and delivery room so it had the chance of making the situation awkward at best. Instead it was a picture for Molly to tuck away about the ways women can be truly remarkable to one another.

On the day Molly was born, we walked into the hospital unknowing how we would be received. This was not your average birth, evidently I don’t do those. Would the staff be kind? Discreet? Would they give Molly’s birthmom and I the space to experience this tenuous and beautiful 48 hours without additional strains? Would they be flexible with all of the added nuances to our circumstance? Would they treat our birthmom with grace and love, taking care to follow the details she wanted for each part of the birth and after? Would they do all of this without judgement?

In adoption stories, hospital experiences are the wild card. We had heard of amazing experiences and conversely, we had heard some pretty terrible ones too-stories that included judgement, harassment, shame and total disregard for birthmom or adoptive parents.

Within moments of walking into that Kansas hospital though, the whole of us were welcomed. There were no sideways glances when Molly’s birthmom introduced us as “this baby girls parents”. The nurses gave Darrin and I our own room on the Labor & Delivery floor-as in, we were able to sleep at the hospital- rare with adoptions.

No one questioned any part of our birthmom’s very detailed plan for how the birth was to go. She explained to the staff who would be in the room, who would hold Molly first, who would cut the cord, that she wanted no drugs, that she wanted a photographer in the room, how the night and days would go after the birth. Her expectations and wishes for this birth. There was not one “are you sure?” to any of her requests. Each one was met with understanding and accommodation.

The staff had to have had questions. How did we get here? Why were we doing this? Was she sure she wanted us in the room? Had we all thought this through? I’m sure there were opinions about adoption in general and about the birth plan Molly’s birthmom put in place for each step of the way.

As the contractions came closer, the intricacy of the situation was navigated with compassion by the all female staff. Inside the doors stood a doctor who followed, with thoughtful care, a birthmom’s plan for the day without reservation or judgement. A staff of nurses who made the experience special for the two moms in the delivery room, never once mis-stepping, always considering each mom’s vulnerabilities.

A photographer who captured the rejoicing and the mourning of the circumstance without intrusion or prejudice. A mom who labored for hours, wholly present, joyful in anticipation and fully aware of the choice she would make to love Molly in a way that would tear her heart out. A mom who held hands with the laborer, knowing completely the gift she was about to receive did not come without sacrifice.

And then she was here! The celebrations as Molly took her first breath were genuine and pure as every single woman in the room rejoiced in adding a new one to the tribe.

Birth ushered in by a circle of strong women. Now that’s something to take with you, Molly Hucks. I don’t know what was happening outside the doors, out in the big wide world. But inside that room, there was a small slice of interpretation about how strong women with big opinions can not only coexist but they can bring forth life.

No judgements were passed or felt. Each woman in the space was focused and giving of the gift she had to offer in that hour for that very specific cause. Each woman unknowingly dispensed to Molly, in her first breaths, an endowment for what it looks like to use her strength for life giving.

So while you don’t remember exactly those moments, Molly, I do. And I hope you’ll be every single woman in that delivery room.

Be the doctor. Celebrate other women’s choices and stories. Respect and honor the plans others have created for their den.

Be the nurse. Encourage other women. Understand that people make tough decisions and sacrifices for reasons that are sacred to them. Give them genuine care and celebrate with them.

Be the social worker. Help people. Use your your roar to serve others. Be an advocate in the gap. Be a woman that leans in when the chips are down.

Be the photographer. Be a woman that sits back, observes and finds, in the perfect light, a vessel to offer her perspective through art. Always start with knowing she has a story-unique to her alone-get to know it.

Be the one who gave birth to you. Love bravely. When you hear your own voice clearly, know this-it is the most important. Be about strength and courage when you hear that voice. The strength you have, started here. With her.

Be the one who is your mom. Love bravely. Fully consider the story of the woman who may be next to you. Trust God’s design for your story. Hold the hand of the women around you. The strength you have was encouraged and loved. By her.

Be all of us. What we taught you in the very first seconds of your existence in the world is good stuff.

You see, sometimes the most important thing is not to roar your opinion, but rather, with strength, quietly give your gift in a way that breathes life.

It’s been 10 months. (Sidebar-I’ll pay you $1000 to tranquilize the minion that runs the second hand around the clock so fast-THIS IS NOT THE AMAZING RACE for crying out loud). She’s a bit of a diva, our sturdy little dark haired beauty. Last Mother’s Day,we were 7 weeks from her due date and my ping pong ball mind was bouncing on each side of the table between cautious optimism and this-might-really-freaking-happen. Those months before her birth were a nervous, terrifying, reflective time. Her birthmom and I had gotten to a comfortable rhythm of communication. I look back now and see how important that time would be for Molly. It’s like her birthmom and I were laying down brick, in the form of trust. Slowly, one by one, we were giving our girl a pathway to understand how her life would be shaped by both of us. We were starting to build a motherhood for the baby in her belly. The baby who we both knew would wake up a year later on Mother’s Day and reach her chunky hands up. For me.

I’m not exactly sure what it’s like to be Molly’s adoptive mom. I’m her mama. I’ve been her mama since she took her first breath. Her birthmom talked to Molly while she was pregnant-telling her often that she had chosen a rockstar mom and dad for her. Preach.  Now it’s Mother’s Day and 7 weeks from Molly’s first birthday (FIND THE MINION) and all I know is- I get to be the one. To sing spot-on Beyonce to her at night. To wipe her nose. To say exactly the right thing that will make her smile and show her two new teeth. To hold her so snug we’re both sweaty. To stop her tears when no one else can. To tell her how critical it will be to choose wisely between bangs or no bangs (go boldly, young jedi.). I get to be the one. I’m so very lucky.

Moms are it ya’ll. I come from a line of strong ones. And I see moms sweatin’ it out and nailin’ it every dang day. In my kid’s classroom, on the early morning flights, in the carpool line, at they gym and Lord knows, in the Target parking lot. Single moms. Dads who are moms. Moms who desperately wait each month to see two lines instead of one. Moms who never got to hold their babies. Moms who work full time, part time, all the time, in and out of the house. Some who have stared blank and raw into the pit of grief that is losing a child. Mother’s Day is hard for a lot of women, not least among them are those moms who have chosen other moms for their babies.

Here’s the happy. Our hearts were created to have the capacity to love wide.

Loving wide gives us freedom. To love instead of judge. To see the grief. To recognize when momin’ gets hard and ring their doorbell with a pizza. To embrace, without comparison, our authentic life and pack the dang processed goldfish. To honor more than one person on Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day and any other holiday that we might feel cornered into singularly celebrating one thing and one thing only.

I am certain Molly’s birthmom will have some raw moments on Mother’s Day. She loves Molly big. I see her in Molly’s face and some of her mannerisms. Those things don’t make me sad. I’m so grateful to be able to give Molly the gift of knowing why she sneezes in multiples or why she loves music. I won’t look away from the ways she is like her birthmom, they are important for Molly. There are so many things I’ll give her too. Like the love of buttercream. And a healthy knowledge of lyrics (and choreography) of every song from Grease. If she’s lucky she’ll get my envious 80’s-bohemian-preppy chic fashion sense. And if I’m lucky she’ll get from me a love for Jesus and Dolly Parton. I hope she gets from me a heart that loves big. I hope she loves musicals. I hope she serves others. I hope she hears from my mouth and sees from my ways these things-Be You. Be Kind. Follow Jesus.

I was chosen to be the one. Motherhood was a gift given to me by a woman who had the capacity to love wide. It’s my honor to pass that kind of love down to a dark eyed baby girl who will call me mama.

I get to be the one.

And above all these, put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. Colossians 3:14

My mama. Who gave me some dang good strategies on mommin. And who spoils our kids on the regular.

Darrin’s mom, who is spoiler #2 of our kids.

See my two teeth?

The 6 year old. How did this happen??

The reason I can mom hard. This guy does it right next to me.

This kid.

From her first breath.

I get to be the one.

9 months earlier we had told Tucker he was getting a baby sister. He squealed. My heart leapt. He was so excited and felt strongly that his new baby sister should be named Parker. We told him we’d take it under consideration. And so the baby prep for all of us began-his little 4 year old heart included. We let him tell each of our family members-his opening line was, “So you know how I’ve been praying for a baby for EVER? Well… We’re getting a baby!!”  We talked about the baby more, started preparing him for what was to come. We told him he could choose a toy to buy for his new baby sister. We tried as best we could to prepare him for the exorbitant amount of crying, pooping, eating and sleeping this new being would do. He was unsure how he felt about all that.

6 weeks later  though, the adoption match fell apart. I was devastated. We didn’t tell him for a few days. As I knew it would be, when we finally told him, it was super emotional for all of us.

“But we prayed for her.”

“Why aren’t we getting this baby?”

“When will it be OUR turn?”

When the match with Molly’s birthmom happened, we still had almost 5 months before the birth. We felt so good and content about this match, everything was different than the last one. I still though, wanted to protect his heart in the slim chance this match didn’t come through. So we waited several months into the match before we told him about this new baby girl. We finally decided to tell him about 6 weeks before her due date. We told him right before bed:

Us: “Buddy, guess what. We have something cool to tell you. YOU… are going to get a baby sister!!”

Tucker: “TONIGHT??!!”

5 year olds have a fuzzy concept of time-so we knew once we told him, he would have a hard time understanding when the baby would actually be here. So, we always answered his “When?” questions with “Soon.” He didn’t bring it up too often after that first week since we kept him in the dark on when we were actually getting her. We kept life as normal as possible as we prepared behind the scenes to get ready for Kansas. He didn’t realize it, but as the weeks narrowed down, I spent purposeful time planning outings and family dates with him squeezing those last only child days for all the fun we could find.

As we got closer, we had to make the sticky decision of whether to take Tucker with us to Kansas or wait until we got back home for him to meet the baby. We knew we would be gone for 2 weeks or more-and we felt like that was a long time to be away. The more we talked about it, the more we really wanted him there-this was a gigantic family moment.  We wanted him to look back and remember being part of it.

And I really wanted Tucker to be the very first one to meet Molly.

Tucker had no idea where Molly was being born, and had no idea that we would be leaving NC for the last time as a family of 3. My parents graciously caravanned the 2 days with us to the beautiful sunflower state. Tucker knew only that we were going on a long vacation and that (bonus!) nana and papa were going with us! When we arrived, we toured around Molly’s hometown and found all the cool spots for kids. Even after we arrived, we did not tell him why we were there. Even though we felt so good and confident about Molly’s birthplan and knew that her birthmom was resolute in her decision, we wanted to be cautious. The first time Tucker laid eyes on his baby sister, we wanted it to be complete. No more surprises, no more disappointments.

The day after Molly was born, it was finally time. Even as my mom put on his “Big Brother” shirt, Tucker had no idea that he was about to ride over to the hospital and meet, before anyone else, his Molly. For the rest of my days I will always remember his face when he walked in the room and realized what I was holding and what that meant.

You can watch that moment here: Tucker Meets Molly

The days after her birth, we waited to get approval from Kansas to take her out of the state and waited for North Carolina to give us approval to bring her into the state. We had no concept of time. No idea what day it was. It was the sweetest time of the 3 of us getting to know this beautiful new creature who, after a 3 hour drive to the Topeka courthouse, was now a Hucks. Tucker’s observations of his new rookie sibling were sweet and funny and heart filling.

“She’s kinda wrinkly. Like an elephant. But smaller.”

That first week in a hotel suite in the middle of Kansas-he learned and helped feed her a couple of times. Practiced his patting technique for burping her. Wondered aloud why she couldn’t yet walk. And observed our prophecy in full effect-as she did indeed sleep, eat and poop with fierce frequency. He quickly began to understand after only a few days, that having a baby sister, while she could not build magnet tiles with him (Come ON Molly) that having a baby sister had some advantages.

“Tucker Hucks. Did you just toot?” (eyes shifty accompanied by fake exasperated tone) “NO…it was Molly”

We finally got the clearances we needed from both Kansas and North Carolina and it was time to trek home with this squishy, wrinkly, little human. 3 days in the car with a newborn, seventy-hundred states crossed with only the redemption of sweet road trip snacks later-we were almost home. Sometimes we would catch Tucker whispering to his new baby sister. Still unsure how long she would actually be here and not totally sure what to do with her, watching him work out in his 5 year old mind how this sibling pairing worked was, in a word, adorable.

(whispering) “Hey Molly bug. (pause) Is it ok if I call you that?”

Driving into our neighborhood 3 years after this whole idea started was as you would expect, surreal. Tucker beamed next to the stork in the yard proclaiming his big brother status. He was happy to be home. Every few hours in between his blissful uninterrupted viewing of more TV than he’s ever watched before (I mean HOURS sweet readers, I’m not one bit ashamed) he would check in on Molly. For exactly 2.7 minutes, then back up to his playroom to resume Wild Kratts binge watching. Lest we figure out how long he’d been up there. A few weeks in, we had all finally eased in to newborn-hood and I let out the breath I’d been holding for the last year.

She was here. She was real. She was our’s.

Tucker also began to understand that Molly was here and she was evidently permanent. There has been nothing so soul-swelling than watching him interact with her. He is gentle and funny and so big-brother-ish. He protects her. He worries about her. He thinks she’s funny and smelly and cute. He wishes she cried less. And that she could play Legos. Yes, that would be amazing, I told him. He makes up songs to sing to her in the car when she’s crying. He shows her every single Lego man, animal, boat, robot and contraption he’s built. She follows him around with her eyes the minute he enters the room-she smiles wildly at him. Having to wash his hands before he holds her is a drag, so it’s a genuine internal conflict in his eyes sometimes as he ponders whether it’s worth it (we’re 50/50 right now). In general, he loves that she’s here and adores her.

One night, about 3-4 weeks after she was born I was tucking him in. We covered many topics-whether black footed ferrets could win a race with a hedgehog (decidedly no), what flavor of ice cream we might get tomorrow (mint moose tracks) and could we possibly go to Disney World this weekend? (we’ll see). Then we got around to the topic of Molly. How did he like having a baby sister anyway?

“Mommy. I think about her every night.”

You do? What do you think about?

“All the love she has inside her.”

Verbatim. Those words. In that order. From his unfiltered heart.

I could try to describe her story and end this series with tons more words and eloquent flair.

But there’s no reason.

She’s been loved at every point of her existence. It lives within her and shines out.

Even a 5 year old can see that.

“We love because he first loved us.” 1 John 4:19