Early last week a veteran parent sent me a short email with the above thought. Many people over the past 9 months talked about the change coming to our lives...how we couldn't know what was going to happen. We couldn't know what was coming...we couldn't know how much our lives were going to change.  But this parent said it best when she talked about belief rather than knowledge; she maybe she understood it wasn't about knowing, but believing. We knew what was coming. After all, we heard enough from those who soothed their own babies long before us. I knew I'd love this baby. I knew I wouldn't get any sleep and my priorities were forever shifted. But she was right I it was impossible to believe in the strength and depth of what I am feeling right now. This little person who I've only known for a few short hours is the most amazing, important thing I've ever experienced. I can't stop looking at her, and every noise she makes pulls my full attention. Working on little sleep after days of adrenaline I was still laying on the hospital couch at 1:30AM last night, not sleeping because I couldn't stop staring at the baby in the little plastic box. This bundle of emotions I now feel is striking because I can feel it coming from some not-before-used part of my brain, somewhere deep back there by the stem, probably just below my bald spot. What is so unbelievable is how overwhelming and out-of-control these feelings are. I tried to write about some of them here and deleted so much silly, overblown, and ridiculously effusive drafts that I almost posted nothing. I suspect someday I'll look back at this and still wonder if my writing teacher was a collection of last-season Hallmark cards at the dollar store. Welcome to Day 2 my little Persephone. Favorite quote of the day: "You're lucky you're not a wildebeest, because if you were, you'd have to run with the heard within five minutes." -Zub Favorite thing mom said: "She's so good at this being human thing." |