I should be sleeping but I can’t because I drank coffee after 3
I am currently laying in my bed between the two people who make up my family. They are breathing simultaneously. I can feel each of their chests rise and fall.
When Eva was born I was anti bed-sharing. It is by accident that we are that granola family for this short chapter of our lives. But y’all, it is the most wonderful thing in the meantime, to be so well surrounded by my people. To not have to look far to know they are both safe and well.
This wont be for much longer, and I will miss it when it ends. What a priceless gem every new day is. Thank goodness for the small mercies God gives me every hour.
Eva did the best thing last night.
As we practiced neck strength, her standing on my legs like a prairie dog supported by my hands, she carefully observed the contrast of the bookshelf to the wall and the photos hanging framed behind me. Suddenly, her eyes found mine and her face broke into a smile as she made excited noises. I was a surprise and (for the first clear time) a recognized friend.
Every day is new here. I am a puddle.
It is raining and green through the front window and you are nursing. Normally I hold you up with a boppy pillow, it gives me two hands to work with, but today I am holding your whole weight. I want to feel how light you are, how heavy you are.
Your dad is sending videos of a perfectly clear day in Arizona where he will hike to the tallest peak. Simultaneously, thunder is rolling over our heads. We are all in some of our favorite spots and still filled with the love that lets us share our lives like this.
Almost 8 weeks old, Eva, and still I am astounded by your soft hands, the way you communicate, the gentle ebb and flow you add to my days, and the grace you give to my blunders as I learn the best way to maneuver this new role. We are both learning. These days are invaluable to me and I wouldn’t change them or trade them for anything.
I am still surprised that I am often the only one able to comfort you. I’ve never been that to anyone and I won’t be to you forever but I’m grateful for the days that you come to me and get quiet in my arms.
You have lived on this earth for 53 days yet I cannot imagine a day without you now.
imagine, you will be here for the majorty of my life and all the remainder of it. I will be here for the majority of your life and get to scoop up the rare beginning days of you.
I think a thousand times a day about how happy I am that you, specifically you, are my daughter. Eva, you are exactly everything I hoped for in a baby. You came small just like I prayed you would. You came with legs so long that when you curl them in to cuddle you seem half your size (when I see them I think of all the ways they’ll move to take you on your path). The little sounds you make delight and terrify me. This week you started just cooing seemingly to hear your own voice. The great big smile you give when I talk to you both melts me and revives me, for every hour I miss of sleep you pay in early smiles. You are delightful.
One day you may read these words and wonder if the girl you become has the same adoration from this heart. The answer, no matter what, will be yes.