Kate Wicker

Storyteller & Speaker

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Baby Hands & Feet


I love how babies discover their hands and feet and contemplate them like they are the most amazing things they’ve ever seen. These days, Rachel Marie has regular tête-à-têtes with her hands or her feet. Today I watched her stare at her curled fists and then watch as her fingers unfurled one by one. She was pondering her own pudgy hands and dancing fingers as if they were marvelous pieces of original art.

And to think that those beautiful fingers and toes, truly God’s artwork, began to form in the second month of my pregnancy and that by the third month or so (nearly a year ago, last December), our little miracle was already flexing these tiny wonders in her watery world.

“You formed my inmost being; you knit me in my mother’s womb. I praise you, so wonderfully you made me; wonderful are your works! My very self you knew; my bones were not hidden from you. When I was being made in secret, fashioned as in the depths of the earth. Your eyes foresaw my actions; in your book all are written down; my days were shaped, before one came to be. How precious to me are your designs, O God; how vast the sum of them! Were I to count, they would outnumber the sands; to finish, I would need eternity.” Psalm 139: 13-18

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· November 12, 2007 · · Filed Under: Photos, Tales from the Trenches

Hi, I’m Kate

I’m a wife, mom of five kids, writer, speaker, storyteller, bibliophile, runner, eating disorder survivor, and perfectionist in recovery. I'm the author of Getting Past Perfect: Finding Joy & Grace in the Messiness of Motherhood  and Weightless: Making Peace With Your Body.

I’ve tried a lot of things in my life – anorexia, bulimia, law school, teaching aerobics, extended breastfeeding, vegetarianism, trying to be perfect and failing miserably at it – and through it all I’ve been writing. And learning to embrace the messiness of life instead of covering it up, making excuses for it, or being ashamed of my brokenness or my home’s sticky counters.

Nowadays I’m striving every single, imperfect day to strike a balance between keeping it real and keeping it joyful.

 

“She could never be a saint, but she thought she could be a martyr if they killed her quick.”

―Flannery O'Connor

Copyright © 2025 Kate Wicker · A Little Leaf Design

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