I think it's safe to say most new mom's are happy to come home from the hospital and spend their first hours alone: quiet and calm. Not me. By 5:30 the house was hopping. Uncle Josh & Aunty Karin preparing us a delicious fajita dinner. Baby Lyss was being passed about and snuggled. She was also introduced to her newest "little brother." Uncle Dave was up tiling the baby nursery with Aidan. Aunty Kate was washing my dishes and chatting with me from my couch-perch the way a sister does. My kids ran about the house as always, accepting change with grace: A temporarily hurting, and somewhat stationary, mom. A tiny, attention-snatching, mewing baby. New things. But ones they seem to have been able to find room in their hearts to accomodate. Each would wander over to me and Isaiah during a pause in their play and give him their spontaneous affections: Caelah; a two-armed snuggle. Elijah; a soft kiss. Gabriel; a cheek-to-cheek embrace. Precious overtures of acceptance. You are one of us and we're ok with that.I really can't put to words the ways I've been blessed. I can only say that I sat on my couch, babe in arms, and took in all of the efforts. Slowly soaking in the memory of being helped and loved in this way. I fought tears the entire evening. I wanted so much to cry openly, but knew it would be misunderstood. Taken for fatigue or emotional exhaustion when, truly, it would have been simply a display of joy. I'm overwhelmed by the community we have found ourselves a part of. Knowing that our children will be wrapped securely in all of this love.
