Wednesday – August 12th, 2026
“Well Mommy, we still have a few more hours left for Pops to have a birthday buddy!” Pops is what my kids call my dad, who turned 61 on August 12th. Emily responded with a little chuckle. She was ready to get our fourth baby out, and wouldn’t have minded in the least if our youngest had to share a birthday with her father-in-law.
“God knows just the right time for Baby Sister to be born. Maybe Jackson will have a birthday buddy next week!” Jackson’s birthday is August 19th, a whole week later.
Thursday – August 13th, 2026
“Kids, leave your bikes up with Daddy if you want to come get some milkweed for the caterpillars.” The best patch of milkweed near us is a ten minute walk down the road from our house, and a good excuse to get some fresh air and exercise. I stayed put on the sidewalk, dutifully guarding the bikes and helmets, while Emily and the kids traipsed down a hill to a giant bush filled with milkweed (and unfortunately some poison ivy, which Emily and Lael discovered too late). I sat marveling at the beauty of the sunset and the toughness of my pregnant wife while I listened to her excited voice joining theirs in caterpillar discovery. She never leaves Mom Mode.
Friday – August 14th, 2026
“Don’t worry, Jax. It has boys in it, too.” Little Women isn’t exactly the most appealing movie name for a boy on the cusp of turning eight, but that was on the docket for family movie night this week. Turns out, he loved it. I don’t blame him. The 2019 version is really well done. Emily and I crawled into bed several hours later, exhausted and grateful we could sleep in the next morning…
Saturday – August 15th, 2026
“Lane, my water definitely just broke.”
We hadn’t been asleep more than a couple of hours when our baby decided to wake us up and let us know it was time to get going. It was just after 1am. My caregiver had left for the night at 11. My next caregiver wouldn’t arrive for another 7 hours to help me get out of bed and into my wheelchair for the day. Emily started texting and calling around, and the caregiver who’d just left volunteered to come back in to get me all set. The bigger, more pressing issue was how to get Emily to the hospital. After a few failed attempts to reach local family by calls or texts (remember, this was 1am), Emily called 911.
Observe my wife’s calmness on display.
“Hi, so this is not an emergency but I have kind of a strange request.” She went on to explain how her water broke, yes she was fine, no she wasn’t in unbearable pain, but her parents lived close to the police station and could an unoccupied officer go knock on the door and please let her parents know she was in labor and needed a ride to the hospital? Also, no she didn’t want an ambulance, but thanks for the offer.
Apparently our local 911 dispatcher has received stranger requests, because they sent an officer to Emily’s parents house within minutes, who alerted them and followed up shortly after with a phone call to Emily making sure she was alright.
Saint Johns is swell.
The reaction from Emily’s parents to the middle-of-the-night police visit is one that has already joined the ranks of Davis lore.
All told, from the time Emily woke up to the time she was in a labor and delivery room, only a couple hours had passed. I ended up joining her around 4am, and by noon we were cooing over our precious fourth child. As with all our kids, we had kept her name a secret until she was born.
As I held her in the crook of my arm and smiled at Emily’s only sister, who’d been with Emily all through her labor, I asked Emily, “You mind if I announce her name?” With tears shining, Emily nodded.
Earlier this year, back when we found out we were having a girl, we spent practically the whole drive home talking about what we were going to name her. Historically, we’ve had a little bit of trouble agreeing on names right away. But this time we weren’t tossing different names back and forth. This time we were dreaming of how well she would fit into the name we both knew belonged to her.
Hope Elouise.
- Hope. In modern English, the word “hope” has taken on a wishy-washy connotation. I hope it doesn’t rain too hard tomorrow, but it might. That sort of hope is uncertain; it’s more of a wish, and it’s based entirely on circumstances. It often disappoints. Biblical hope is not so. It is an eager anticipation of a certain future. Aside from Scripture itself, the best definition of biblical hope I’ve come across recently was in this portion of a poignant blog post by Marie Garreau. Here’s the quote for those who don’t feel like following the link:
“Hebrews 11:1 defines faith as “the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” What is it that the Christian hopes for? His hope is held fast in the faithfulness of God. That God, who is rich in mercy, will save, sustain, and bring into a glorious eternal perfection, those he has chosen as his own and who have placed their faith in him. Our sure hope is that nothing, no affliction, can take us from the hand of God (John 10:28), and ‘that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.’ (Romans 8:18)”
The Lord has time and again been our rock & steady anchor since we’ve been married; the unshakable hope that we’ve been able to cling to no matter our earthly circumstances. He’s gifted us with 4 precious children and we long for each one to be reminded of this hope each day, with whatever they encounter in this life. Hope’s name points us above and beyond our present circumstances (easy or hard), and reinvigorates our souls with a fresh reminder of God’s unyielding promises.
- Elouise. Hope’s middle name is a combination of her two dear grandma’s names (Elizabeth Bargeron & [Debra] Louise Davis) and Emily’s sister Elizabeth – three women of faith who we want her to remember and look up to. God has blessed us with two families who love Him and want to see others do the same. This is a legacy for which we are grateful, and one we don’t take lightly.
Our baby girl is even more beautiful and important than her name. From the moment we laid eyes on her and heard her little cry, our lives have been forever changed. That’s the beauty of life. It’s impossible to live without affecting someone else in some way. Her three big siblings adore her and are each taking on their unique roles with more fervor than they probably realize. Baby Hope has forever changed their lives in the space of a week.
We pray that one day she’ll learn the depth of what her name means, and the supreme worth of the One who died and lives so hope (and Hope) can exist.
