Do you know that old saying about the weather in some places (California, Key West, Costa Rica… wherever)? That if you don’t like the weather, wait ten minutes? That’s how I’d sum up my emotions right now. They are many (in a not-so-pretty Whitmanesque way), and I can’t seem to hold onto any of them long enough to pin them down.
One minute I’m sure I’m not really bonding with Lou and the next minute I’m crushed by my love for him.
I’m at turns truly convinced that we’re damaging Bram by forcing him to share us so substantially, and then completely sure that this little baby is the best thing we’ve done for him yet.
I think this isn’t so bad about the exhaustion, only to dramatically think I can’t go on! within hours.
I look at Louis and and am just sure he’s been robbed by birth order – he’ll never know the kind of undivided love Bram knew – but also, almost simultaneously, that he’s so lucky – look what a calm mama he’s getting in comparison. Look how much less anxious he’s learning to be.
That we should have stayed a family of three AND that I can’t imagine our lives without him.
That we should most definitely stay a family of four AND that we should definitely stay open to adopting a sibling set when the time comes.
In some ways, it’s the craziest I’ve ever felt, because man: I cannot get a beat even on my own self right now. I’m basically a toddler in this way. But it’s also kind of lovely because it’s so clearly a product of loving so much: loving this life, loving these babies, being so desperate to do well by my children that I’m just about driven mad.
And I trust it will pass. It will pass and I’ll be left with the real stuff: the truth, which I already know is this: we are just exactly where we’re supposed to be. So when the crazy comes, I try to remember what one wise friend tells me: that feelings aren’t facts. And what another friend just reminded me of this morning, which is that this time isn’t always about having fun, or being our happiest, or relaxing, or even staying sane. That we can suffer some for this and even in the suffering we can choose this and that choice can be full of joy.
So that’s what this tiny quiet moment allowed. We’ll get a birth story here soon. And details about how we’re settling in with this sweet, mysterious creature (who looks shockingly like his big brother, but who feels, already, so different). The high high highs and the daunting lows. The sweet things Bram tells Louis. We’ll get to it all soon (I hope). For now, love and gratitude to all of you who’ve walked this path before us and are guiding us now.