The house is mostly quiet. While the big girls are over at a friend's, Nora and I are dozing in the living room, the occasional squeaky cry my reminder to feed her.
She fits perfectly on me with her legs curled up under her and her head against my chest. I wonder if the thumping of my chest in her ear reminds her of her time in the womb. I cradle her bottom in my hand and pat her gently on the back, breathing in her baby scents of Dreft and shampoo, with a dash of milky breath leftover from her most recent nursing session.
She stretches her arms above her head and yawns, her eyes still tightly shut. When she smiles I wonder if she's dreaming of milk. I close my eyes and feel the weight of her, all seven or eight pounds, on top of my heart.
* * *
I am in awe at how easily she fits into our family. How quickly she is finding her place. And how the big girls are adjusting to the newest member of our family. They are incredibly eager to help, grabbing diapers, wiping her spit up, informing me when they think she's hungry. Nora is doted upon and smothered with kisses, and each big sister has about three hundred requests per day to hold her.
We are ever-so-slowly finding a rhythm, one that is sure to change as quickly as she does, speeding up one day and the next day slowing to a crawl. We are sleeping four hours at a time one night followed by a night of multiple feedings with long episodes of rocking in between. We are taking trips to Target and the coffee shop, with lazy afternoons of snuggling together on the couch.
We are finding our way as a family of five, the family of just four slowly fading to a distant memory.
We are all in love. And it is so good.
xoxo, christine
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