Postpartum

Three and a half weeks ago, I had a baby boy.  He came in the middle of the night, in our bedroom, in the blow-up pool we had ready to welcome him, midwives’ hands catching him, his big sister sleeping down the hall, then greeting him moments later in her polka-dotted footie pajamas, her grandparents coming in the front door just after that . Our son’s name means “flowing water” and that he did — surfed out of me and into the pool, so smoothly I thought it was a dream (quite different than his sister three years earlier!!).  Surrounded by family and familiarity, I am so very grateful we had such a birth.

And, since then, it is all a blur. And will continue to be so, I’m sure. Big sis adjusting to her world changed (um, is there an opposite to “adjusting”?). Little brother adjusting to the world, period. Mom and Dad adjusting to juggling two all-consuming children. Lack of sleep, lots of crying (yes, parents included some days). But laughing, too. At least once a day.  In fact, our ability to laugh amidst the chaos is how I know how lucky I am.  Even in exhaustion, I know how important that is.  And I know that is enough.

More later, hope all are well…