Actually, I should title this blog “Overinspired.”
I’ve been trying for the past week now to properly blog about the catalyst that happened on June 5. I tried writing down the logistics of it, the birth story, how I went from being Bug’s mom to Bug and Bean’s mom in just two short pushes. I tried to synopsize the start-to-finish, tried to compare it to Bug’s birth, tried to keep it plain and simple. I tried to describe what I felt physically, the witty banter between my very shocked OB and me (in between contractions, of course), and the champion my husband was when I repeated over and over, “I can’t do this. This is harder than the last time. Is it over yet?”
But I deleted that one, because, honestly, who really cares? Those who do were either there, or I’ve already told them that story, or will tell them the next time we sit down for lunch. So I Moved to Trash.
I tried to put into words what I feel and know every time I look at Bean, or watch the way my husband looks at Bean, or watch the way my son looks at Bean. I’ve tried for the past week now to say what I could, eloquently and succinctly, but every time I look at her sleeping face, I lose whatever precious little I had managed to wrap my mind around.
I am overwhelmed by her.
I am overwhelmed by my tiny daughter, and how she has managed to overtake everyone around her in just a few short days: her daddy, her brother, her mama.
I am overwhelmed with the knowledge that she is mine, she is perfect, and I cannot screw this up.
I am overwhelmed and over-inspired by my family, by my thoroughly smitten husband, by my patient and understanding and wise five-year-old who has willingly lent me to a very needy newborn, by my gracious mother who has made the first couple of weeks easier than it should ever be, by my generous father for sharing her for the entire month, until the confidence to juggle two children comes (if it ever does).
I am just an awestruck player in all of this, and praying time doesn’t go too fast.