David is all snuggled on my chest- it never ceases to amaze me, the miracle of a new baby. The way he is snuggled against my neck and utterly contented with life. His curious blinking eyes that seem to echo an old man’s. His baby bird squawk manages to make the whole family laugh (James commented after one chirping session that the "tea’s done")…though it is beginning to give way to a full throated newborn cry. I may be utterly sleep deprived, but I am feeling renewed. I guess it has something to do with the newness of life. I think it has something to do with fall too.
Autumn has to be my favorite time of year. I love the crisp, fresh feeling. The turning in, towards home and hearth and harvest. The utter beauty of the leaves turning. The smell of the night air as fires are lit in the country… the glow of a candle in the aged farmhouse across the street from us. The feeling of family. When you think about it, this time of year on into Christmas is a focus on being grateful for blessings given, a celebration of the people in our lives.
I have been particularly mindful of my many blessings with this birth. For my husband, who was my rock, and put up with my hormonal rantings and loved me in spite of them, who did everything he could to lighten the load. Where would I have been without my mother and mother-in-love? My whole family would have gone unclothed and unfed the last two weeks prior to labor, never mind the myriad other chores. For my sister, whom the kids adored and treated as a human playground, who didn’t mind the umpteenth millionth time of singing Veggie Tales tunes. For a wonderful doctor, who has delivered most of my children, who not only makes me laugh, but does his job so very well, giving me the confidence to do my part well. (Although, he shot himself in the foot this time around. He told me I could not, under any circumstance, go into labor between twelve and one pm, his lunch hour, because the drug reps were bringing barbeque from the Firehouse restaurant, and he wanted some! The nurses and I got such a kick out of it, and bets began as to when I would deliver. David arrived, I kid you not, at twelve on the nose! )
Although, I am trying to find joy in the mountain of laundry that is invading the laundry room and the garage. Lorelei is only fifteen months, but I had already forgotten again how much laundry babies and birth generate! And the meconium diapers. Forgotten them too. Anyone want some brick mortar?