As mentioned, I have two beautiful little girls. The first is currently in that Tasmanian devil stage we all like to call "age 2". She is an absolute tornado of giggles and sweetness and mischief and every once in a while we hit the eye of the storm and then it's time to cuddle and read books. And everything about her is screaming pink. I love it. I love her! And up until the arrival of our latest little ladybug, she was pretty much my world.
I remember being pregnant with her. I had this picture in my mind of exactly what she was like, and a million day-dreams come true about the mother I could be to her. I indulged in everything about her baby-hood; spent hours just holding her, adoring her, responding to her every squawk. Since she came first, and we had just moved across the country immediately before her birth, I had time to be obsessed :) Not so much with pregnancy number two. I felt like I couldn't really grasp who this one was or how I could possibly be the same mama to her. And I worried about it a little. Not that I should have.
She's here now. Our latest little gift. This peaceful, gentle soul. She's a change of pace, a whole new ball game. Her first six weeks of life have been somewhat different than her sister's. But every bit as beautiful. I can't hold her for hours and hours on end, or get lost in as many quiet moments, just the two of us. And sometimes I still feel like I have know idea how I should approach being a mother to two. But the moment they handed me this new little baby, any anxiety over that disappeared completely. Magically, this gigantic space appeared in my heart, all for her. Just for her. And so I'm okay with winging it, a lot, because now I know one essential thing: she will, without a doubt, be loved. Hugely, wholeheartedly, individually loved. And that, is enough. Its the best thing I could have offered her anyway.
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