Sophie is asleep, and here I sit, browsing through some photos I took of her the other day, my heart simply bursting with love for this child. It is the kind of love you just can't prepare yourself for, unimaginable as it is. I wonder if biology makes all mothers feel this way, or if there is something extra in the way I feel - something born in the years of wanting, and the resignation that it will never be. Either way, I have to say it is the most amazing thing I have ever felt and I am grateful for every atom of this child. I am grateful to know this kind of love. I am grateful to be able to give this sort of love.
Of course, I worry a little. I know I should be engaging in more me-centered activities, doing more things I enjoy so I don't lose ... Me. But honestly, I just don't want to. I read every single night, and second to snuggling Sophie, that's my favorite thing to do anyway. I also have been trying to knit, although time for that is scarce. And I am cooking new recipes daily. If it weren't for my begrudging attitude about cleaning and laundry every damned day, I'd almost be a stereotypical housewife. But I digress. My point is, I am doing what I want to do right now. She is only going to be a baby for a little while. Time flies. FLIES. So, why not? What's a few solid years watching and warming to every new development? What's wrong with squeezing every bit of happy from these first few years? Am I less of an individual, less of a feminist, for doing so? I think not.
So, kindly stand back and let me observe my child in play, and then let me post excessive photos of said child. If you feel the urge to judge, do so quietly and under your breath. Thank you.
Love, truly, to all.
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