A Decade of Diapers & God’s Perfect Timing

Eleanor Mae

It’s been some time since I’ve written on here — But today feels right.  Each of our children has had a special blog post to mark a moment, a milestone, or just something on my came out on paper after thinking about it on a typical 10 mile run in the country or down the local bike trail. Noah had his. Juliana and Mateo had theirs. And now it’s Eleanor’s turn — our sweet seven-month-old daughter, our little light. 

Riehm Gaggle

Jana and I were married in 2014, which feels like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. We’ve now crossed the ten-year mark — and somewhere between wrestling with kids car seats, bedtime stories, X-rays, ultrasounds, scraped knees, and sleepless nights, I blinked and found myself surrounded by four children and more grace than I could’ve ever imagined.

And so, as another school year approaches, we not only celebrate each other, but we also look around and feel deeply — and joyfully — that God has completed our family.

Of course, it seems only fitting that this milestone decade has also been… a “decade of diapers.” (Seriously — think about that. Ten straight years, picture the mountain of diapers!) We’ve had diapers in every room, the cars, the back of running strollers- they are everywhere. It’s been a little chaotic, occasionally messy, but I’ll say this without hesitation: I wouldn’t trade a moment of it.

There’s something sacred in the mess, something redemptive in the rhythm of a home filled with children. And Eleanor — our gentle, wide-eyed, observant baby girl — came right on time. Not our time. God’s.

 

Eleanor was born on December 10th, 2024 — just three days before Juliana’s birthday. I joked with Jana that our December calendar was now officially “overbooked,” but the truth is, I wouldn’t want it any other way. She entered the world at a healthy seven pounds, full of warmth and life, with that perfect newborn cry that tells you everything is okay. We were overjoyed — and yet, beneath that joy was a whisper of fear.

 

You see, Eleanor’s big brother Noah was born with one of the most severe forms of congenital heart disease: hypoplastic left heart syndrome. It’s a diagnosis that’s not compatible with life unless you intervene — and intervene early. We’ve walked the long road of hospital rooms, surgeries, and nights where prayer was the only thing holding us together. So of course, as Eleanor grew in the womb, we wondered — what if?

 

We went through every scan, every check-up, every echo with both hope and a touch of bracing reality. And then, there we were — holding Eleanor in the newborn nursery, just an day old, watching the monitor read a perfect 100% pulse ox (100% blood oxygenation) That little number on the screen meant everything. It wasn’t just a stat. It was an answer. It was grace. It was peace.  This meant the chances of Eleanor having any severe heart defect was negligible.  No surgeries, just normal baby checkups. 

100% pulse ox

 

And oh, what joy this little girl has brought into our lives. In just seven months, Eleanor has added a new rhythm to our home — one filled with soft coos, sleepy snuggles, and her already-famous one-eyebrow expressions. She is gentle and observant, always seeming to be two steps ahead of whatever is happening in the room. She watches. She soaks it all in. And then she smiles — not just with her mouth, but with her whole face. And when she does, the whole room changes.

 

She loves to be around her siblings. They dote on her endlessly. Noah always tries to make her laugh with his over-the-top antics. Juliana sings to her in soft whispers. And Mateo — who once held the title of baby of the family — now proudly wears the badge of big brother. He sits next to her and talks to her like she already understands everything he says.

Jana and I often find ourselves just watching the chaos unfold — baby gear in every corner, someone always crying or running, something always sticky — and somehow, it’s perfect. Eleanor, in her calm and steady way, feels like the exclamation point at the end of this beautiful, messy, grace-filled sentence we call our family.

 

While we know life is never without uncertainty — and while there are still questions about where we’ll live, what the future holds, and what the next season may bring — there is one thing we are always certain of:

We have our home.

We have our family.

And we are standing on a rock that cannot be shaken.

 

On The Rock

This house/family we’ve built together — noisy, joyful, faith-filled, sometimes chaotic — is anchored in something far greater than anything this world can offer. It’s not the square footage or the zip code that makes it home. It’s the presence of God in the middle of it. It’s the laughter of our children, the prayers whispered over their beds, the grace extended daily, and the unwavering truth that Christ is our cornerstone.

 

We pray this truth over Eleanor, just as we have for each of our children — that no matter what storms come, her foundation would be firm, and her heart would always find its home in Him.

 

“The rain came down, the streams rose, and the winds blew and beat against that house; yet it did not fall, because it had its foundation on the rock.”

— Matthew 7:25 (NIV)

 

Welcome to the world, Eleanor Mae Riehm.

You were born right on time.

You’ve completed this family in a way only God could have written.

And we can’t wait to see the story He’s going to tell through your life.