Monday, February 13, 2012
A new chapter
The thing is, I KNOW it's not matter of dividing love in half but rather watching your heart grow to a new unthinkable size twice as big. And I know that will happen for me when we meet this new gift from God. But it's hard to imagine something you've never experienced.
A million thoughts have been running through my head over the course of the last few days. It's been a mixture of thankfulness to God, absolute fear, nervousness so intense I could pee, anticipation, joy, all of it. But I've come to peace on this central feeling: joy. And this is why.
I know the first year of Eva's life was hard. It was a year filled with so many tired days at work and frustrated episodes of crying and cold dinners and new uncertainties every other day. But I barely remember that stuff. And it's not even because I've "blocked it out" or that I'm trying forget it. It's that those moments aren't the memories. The memories are the joys -- the pride of watching her feed herself for the first time, the excitement in her eyes when she saw an animal at the zoo up close for the first time, the nights of snuggling in our chair together, the moments where she out and out surprised us with her knowledge or her humor and made us beam with pride or laugh until we cried in a way that we knew no one else would understand but the two of us. Those are the moments that I have with me and those are the moments that matter. So I will focus on the joy that awaits us, knowing that joy comes with challenges but also knowing that those challenges will eventually not matter in the least.
And I know our world will ever be changing even before this new child arrives. Tonight when Eva and I were playing she wanted to wrestle and jump on me and I, ever mindful of my fragile little poppy seed, had to tell her that she couldn't be so rough with Mama's belly anymore. The disappointment and confusion that resulted I know will come up again and again. I know eventually we won't fit together like a jigsaw puzzle for a little while when she curls up to me at night with her glass of milk. I know eventually there will be days when my aching body or big belly will simply not allow me to hold her or carry her at times when she wants me to. I know life will change as it is meant to change, but there are still moments where I'm scared as hell of losing a small piece of our connection over the course of the next few months.
So tonight when she brought me a pillow and a blanket and patted our chair, despite it being time for her to crawl into her bed all by herself, I smiled and opened my arms. I wrapped my arms around her little wiry body tightly and smelled her little shampooed head underneath my chin. And we rocked together like a jigsaw puzzle a little past her bedtime, just this once. I had the time to spare.
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