immortality

Saturday night our date night was at the Toast to Life event for the East End Pregnancy Test + Help Center, which is a place we want to increasingly give our time & money. Again I am filled with questions on how to approach  friends who are convinced that a pro-choice position makes women free.  Current VA legislation has sharpened conversations, whether with co-workers or in the birth community or with classmates or even family (hopefully in person rather than on FB). It is truly difficult to avoid a raw, unedited, emotional reaction from either standpoint. Because each of us becomes a mother in a unique way, the complexities of our perspectives are unique. I'm sure we could more thoroughly prepare for such conversations to be both intelligent & filled with gracious passion.

Initially, I wondered why an ultrasound is opposed as an invasive prerequisite for terminating a pregnancy. Before any other medical procedure, we expect or even demand that doctor to perform a scan (CT, MRI, x-ray, etc) before intervening with our physical condition. The scan verifies or contradicts the diagnosis, shows the doctor what's going on inside, to inform the procedure. Scientific debate regarding when life begins ended 20 years ago. But that tiny, growing life threatens me: to have a child is to admit that I will not live forever. Someone, hopefully our children, will outlive me. Their presence ends the life I think I want, my plans for the immediate future, my freedom to be incurably selfish, my illusion of immortality. For a mind that embraces survival of the fittest, it makes sense to "end their life before they're strong enough to end mine."

It's more personal than politics can address. Properly planning for parenthood is impossible while I fear my own death. That fear turned me into quite a dragon while carrying Os. Being E's mom for only 6 months, I knew the person growing under that baby bump would instantly kill my agenda. Anger, resentment & shame stole my joy over his life for a time. I let them steal it, all while desperately trying to love him & be thankful for his thriving life. It felt as if the fear might kill me after all.

Thankfully I am surrounded by women determined to nurture & empower one another. In addition to a loving husband, my midwives, doula & friends all rallied in celebration for Os & his complaining mum. The feelings of being alone were lies, of course, but deceptively loud. And suddenly compassion kicked in: how much despair might single mums feel about unplanned pregnancies? Without a previously existing, whole-hearted support network (family, friends, birth professionals, etc) I would have plummeted into postpartum depression. While undeniably pro-life & pro-adoption, my dark path to Os' birth taught me the shallowness of a feminism that denies female vulnerability & the need for women caring for one another. Those nine months were a temporary hardship so this new person can thrive in the world outside mama. My arms, my heart, my home must open not only to the children whose arrival is unwelcome but also to the women who carry them, my sisters, my friends. I could not face it alone. None of us should face it alone.

sling 'em

photo via FB


Somewhat random, but worthwhile, plug for a good cause giveaway. Try for a baby-wearing prize & contribute to one man's fight against cancer. Rather lovely, to the eye & the soul.

when hunger strikes

He grabbed both fork & meatball out of my hands.

In case anyone was in doubt, having babies 16 months apart is exhausting. Since January (bump got huge), I have slept an average of 4 hrs a night (meaning actual sleep, not just laying there or nursing/dozing). Despite a high protein, high fat, whole foods diet, the lack of restful slumber has taken a toll on the quality of mama's milk. At 3 months old, Os reverted to eating every 2-2.5 hrs all day & all night. At first I thought it was a growth spurt, took Fenugreek & waited until 4 months before offering a banana-coconut oil-farm cream-egg yolk puree. Though he liked the taste & the spoon, little bum was constipated so we stopped the puree. Bleary & fatigued, I laid him on the scale at 5 months to discover that he hadn't gained an ounce in about 30 days. I shouldn't have been surprised; my milk is like water by lunchtime. 


So we've turned to the homemade formula recipe in Nourishing Traditions, despite the expensive ingredients & labor intensive daily prep work. Powder formula simply isn't made from whole milk (besides how processed & non-food-like it is) & isn't a good substitute when quality (fat) is the issue rather than quantity. Plenty of research has shown (besides just mama common sense) that low-fat & low-cholesterol diets are linked to failure-to-thrive in infants & young children. A couple very generous friends have even donated their excess pumped milk to his slender smiling face... milk that's beautiful, yellow with cream & preciously reserved for days we are out of the farm milk used in the homemade formula. I'm delighted to find him content & playful, eating every 3-3.5 hrs all day & night (huge improvement) & his bowels relieving themselves once more. It is time to attempt a vacation.

mission: moderate success

image via Etsy

Yesterday was our first attempt at mama grocery shopping with both babies. Made it through with Os in the sling & E in the cart, no fussing from either, only forgot 2 items. Crucial items: sleeve of garlic cloves & fresh lemons. Still a success, considering how unexpectedly busy the market was. (I forgot about college students re-emerging from summer.) The really strange part was seeing former classmates, who looked relatively the same but maybe older in face, who didn't recognize me at all. Whether because of the dark hair or distraction of sweet-faced boys, I can not guess.

before & after: overdue for haircut

 

Hormone whiplash, if that's the official term, is upon us. Things that no one tells you about baby-havin'... or if someone does mention it you think, "oh that won't be me." For instance after months (17 of the past 24 for me) of having unusually great skin & hair, BAM POW ZAP! Hair falling out & being pulled out by little fists that can't find their way. (Not to mention that it's never been this dark before.) Professional help needed, & received: lots of fun layers, length maintained, bangs to disguise the growing-back-in phase. Thanks to Rene at Guys & Dolls, we hope to have fewer burst-into-tears moments at the bathroom sink.

what you think you want

No desire whatsoever to "bounce back." Right now, I don't care to cook elaborate food or tidy the house or even appear particularly put-together when people come over. Probably safer that way. None of those tasks are achievable anyway. I attribute the not-caring & general lack of anxiety over things that would normally make me burst into tears (ie. broken milk jar, my fault, half gallon wasted) to the placenta pills. They.are.my.jam. It's very clear in my mind & heart what actually needs attention.

My boys need my time. Os needs to nurse every couple hours, E needs cuddles & kisses & reading books together as one-on-one mama time, Nic needs words of gratitude & encouragement for the kick-ass daddy he is for us. My body needs time: to rest overworked muscles, to recover healthy iron levels, to increase quality milk supply, to restore hormone levels, to ease an over-active mind. Other demands (even temptations like photo editing) must wait while we preserve this place of respite for our family. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

Obadiah's birth story

all photos by Nic or Amber, mama to this presh baby girl

Quite a shock to hear people ask how "our sons" are doing. My eyes probably glaze over each time. Sons, a mature sounding word, plural, joyful. Intimidatingly big deal. How did it go from trying for "a baby" to having two sons two years later? I've wondered whether my body could handle it... whether my   psyche could handle it... whether our marriage was strong enough to embrace them into true family?

When Obadiah came, with such strength & vigor, I knew that such high hopes had not been hoped in vain. Our way was prepared for us down to minute details: the time of day & day of the week, the midwives & nurses on duty, the technology available, the person to care for Elijah. Everything his birth needed was provided.

Our hope throughout this very unplanned pregnancy was a drug-free VBAC, which are increasingly rare in our area because so many hospitals & practices worry about liability, require continuous fetal monitoring or simply don't allow women an alternative to second Cesarean birth. So I networked, with  help from my doula & Birth Matters, to switch my prenatal care to a midwifery practice whose overseeing Ob genuinely supports VBAC candidates & to a hospital where the midwives' rapport was clearly established. This facility is also 25 min closer to home than where Elijah was born. His labor went lightning fast, so the switch was a no-brainer.

However jittery I felt carrying almost 3 weeks longer this time, & after several start-&-stop "almosts" with every thunderstorm, disappointment mixed with relief when labor evaporated. I had cried enough to genuinely give up wanting to anticipate/predict the timing of baby's arrival. The whole thing would be a surprise: conception, gender, birth. So Friday morning (April 8) mum, Elijah & I went to the chiro like any other week. Every adjustment makes a difference for me, but this one brought especially restful alertness that really helped me relax. Next was the scheduled midwife appt, with no developments to report, I was still 4-5 cm dilated & completely effaced. Crazy, right? I'd been walking around like that for a week at least, no noticeable contractions except during storms. She sent me home to eat a snack (queso, big mistake) & take a nap, I thought.

Alas, mid-snack at 11am my conversation with mum halted as a minute-long contraction seized my breath, my back, my front, my hips, everything halted. So she kept an eye on the clock: 9 min, another, 7 min, another, 6 min, 5 min, & I had to poo of all things. Biggest.dump.of.my.life. It was no-nonsense now & I needed someone to help me focus; the on-call midwife, Nic & Amber were summoned. Fifteen min later, after 3 or 4 more contractions that required counter-pressure from mum, Nic arrived & we converged at the hospital by noon. Friends, all that queso came up as we settled in L&D. I don't know how long I labored in the room before our amazing nurse rigged a waterproof method of fetal monitoring that let me into the tub. But thank Jesus for that girl, for her having home-birth experience & knowing that this labor needed to be in water. I dilated from 6 to 9 or 10cm while in the tub, encouraging a steady rhythm that let me relax & supporting my weight enough to let me squat & rock side-to-side without too much fatigue. And the baby footprints on the wall were the perfect detail to keep me focused on why this whole process was worth doing without drugs; I wanted to feel every detail of this baby coming. Two contractions in a row, I got LOUD without meaning to, perhaps because I suddenly wanted to bear down but knew not to push in the tub. Announcing I needed to get out because they were "too intense, too close, I want to push too much," they wrapped me in warm towels & helped me onto my hands & knees in bed again.

Bless her soul, my midwife said I could do whatever my body said to do. So I bore down & heard what sounded like a water balloon crashing out of my bottom. "I'm about to meet you, little person," I thought, "who are you, what is your name?" And relief came realizing that sheer exhaustion hadn't overcome me after all. So I pushed, gently at first, trying to figure out what muscles to use, feeling baby move down & taking direction from the midwife as to which pushes were really doing the work. That lasted an hour total, so they say, but most distinct is how it felt when he stayed low between contractions & I wasn't pushing to keep him low. I got to reach down & feel his little head, so close to the part where we get to rest together, an extra surge of wanting this baby crashed over me. So we pushed a little more; his head & left hand came out together which was tricky. It meant his body needed a little jostling to come out quickly enough to let him breathe. I say jostling because that's how it felt, the pain or sensation of stretching never increased, & soon he slid out. All 7lbs 14 oz of him. Almost a pound bigger than Elijah at birth. No wonder I felt huge.

All I wanted in the world was to hold that sweet baby & nurse him as soon as he was willing. Skin to skin now, swaddling can come later. He squeaked, he cried the brand-new "lah, lah, lah" cry I remembered from E. I was probably cooing at him; Nic was crying & trying not to pass out I think. We just held each other as daddy announced he was a boy & waited to cut the cord once it stopped pulsing. Afterbirth felt weird & hugely relieving; my whole body shook & my teeth chattered happily to feel him wiggling & crawling up my belly, now soft & empty. And we rested under warm blankets while the nurses & midwife made sure my bleeding was under control. We waited until his little throat was clear of all fluid before nursing; it didn't seem to matter, he latched right away on both sides, preferring to be held upright rather than cradled. I was probably still cooing to him; mama was so in love with him & so happy to feed little Os (his initials, pronounced Oz).

We impulsively opted to take the placenta home to our freezer, not sure what we'd end up doing with it but wanting to keep the miraculous organ than made our boy so strong inside mama. At the one-week mark, still feeling pretty anemic, I contacted a local lady who encapsulates placentas. This means that she prepares it in our kitchen, dehydrates & makes it into capsules as a medicinal supplement. The capsules are taken like a vitamin to restore mama's postpartum body: the reboot of iron in my blood, the helpful hormones that ward off anxiety & depression, not to mention increasing my milk supply. Yes, please! And it was amazingly healing to watch her prepare it, looking at the umbilical cord again... hearing her say how healthy our placenta was & seeing her point out signs of vitality. So encouraging, especially after my freak-out about having completely missed the first trimester health rituals. It's by far the strangest thing I've ever done, but it feels right.

meeting baby Os

For now, the basics...

We gave birth to Obadiah Stephen on Friday afternoon around 5pm. Successful VBAC, amazing 6 hour labor, mostly in tub. So far he is a strong, eager nurser & quite content to sleep once full. Now I am going to sleep too.

37 weeks

thanks, Nic, for sweetly documenting my jitters

I.am.huge. The shadow communicates how huge I feel. We took a true Sabbath on Sunday & everyone rested, my mum was even here to hang. mmmmmm, I.am.tired. Days when it's just the two of us at home I have to lay down whenever E's in the crib, & still by the time daddy gets home I'm exhausted. The things I made ahead of time & put in our freezer are getting eaten already cause it's hard to stand & cook now that baby is so low, & I'm swelling by the end of the day (need to put feet up). Twice last week (Monday night & Saturday night) my body was in textbook early labor for several hours & then subsided around 11pm so I just went to bed. Sort of disappointing/confusing... hopefully baby is moving down & getting in perfect position. Elijah was born at this stage of our first pregnancy, so that memory tricks my sense of "full-term." I'm just so over being pregnant, esp. since 17 out of the past 24 months have been in this state.

One thing that's really helped over the past month or so (besides weekly chiropractic visits) is increasing my cod liver oil intake & adding vitamin D3 at the time of day I already take Calcium... huge difference in mood! Today I snagged an herb called Skullcap to take before bed; it's safe for pregnancy & nursing as a remedy for restless sleep & anxiety. Baby bump is pretty active at night, so falling asleep is slow. Plus I did have postpartum anxiety last time & would like to nip it in the bud this time.

all the fellas in the house

I wish I knew whose illustration this was.  Illustration by Gustav Klimt. It came to us on the front of a card after Elijah was born, & I immediately loved the image but felt disappointment wash over me realizing that the giver felt the need to draw over the nipple. Consequently drawing attention away from the breastfeeding relationship between mother & child.

So now I'm wondering... how wide is the circle of people (family, friends, acquaintances) among whom I feel at ease while nursing my baby? In order for the food to even flow both tiny & mama have to be relaxed, not in a rush, etc. And what happens in my emotions when I look up to realize that someone in the room, regardless of age or gender, is staring in shock? Last time I felt fine nursing without a cover around extended fam & certain couples in Richmond (having had a convo first to make sure it's cool around their older kids). The thing that drives me nuts is that the whole topic is so hush-hush. It never occurred to me (until my mum mentioned it) that my brother was uncomfortable but wouldn't say anything to Nic or I. No wonder we never saw him those first 6 months! Around other people's kids, it seems to differ whether they've seen their own mom nurse or not. Some boys we know see women nursing & aren't phased; others are awkward & seem to have received no instruction on the difference between seeing vs. staring. Why? I do not know. Along with teaching Elijah bathroom etiquette (we have a closed-door, knock-first policy) & the difference between our house rules vs. other houses, I intend on helping him with breastfeeding etiquette with Nic's help.

This is a family issue, not just a woman's issue: we have the boobs, yes. But unless dads/husbands/brothers/fathers get over the phobia & really support their wives/daughters/sisters I doubt breastfeeding will become a relaxed part of Western life. And how does the age of the baby change people's comfort level? Elijah weaned himself at 9-10 months, understandable since I was in my second trimester already & probably not producing the quantity or quality he was used to. But I was crushed. He's a big boy now, but so cuddly that I wonder if I'd still be nursing him if I could. Some of our friends nurse their toddlers; others seem to feel social or familial pressure to wean at arbitrary points. At 6 months... when they eat solid food... at one year... when they have teeth... once they can ask to nurse... How about weaning when both mama & baby are ready to end the breastfeeding relationship? Because it is a unique & priceless relationship.

old school feminism

image via backtoclassics.com

Growing up, professionals would say that "Breast is Best" til they were blue in the face. But as a child & as a young woman, I desperately needed to see women nursing babies in order to understand what it meant to live with this being normal & healthy culturally. Mum nursed me until 18 months, & I knew that factoid without really seeing its value. I never really thought about weddings, pregnancy, or infants despite babysitting since age 11. By the time I went to college, I had maybe seen two babies being discreetly yet shamelessly nurtured at their mother's breast. This aspect of motherhood, however present it may have been, was tucked away & utterly foreign. Therefore, seeing breasts (Lord have mercy if a nipple showed up) was always furtive & shameful, rather than wholesome. Speaking of wholesome, I was utterly unaware of an entire genre of Christian art called "Maria Lactans" that shows the Madonna nursing baby Jesus. Despite coming from Catholic extended family, churched every week & educated partly in religious schools, I was largely ignorant & somewhat fearful of my own anatomy.

It is both ironic & tragic that breastfeeding is censored from the public eye where we live. Our city is filled with students & professionals  whose artwork & lifestyles defy injustice & discrimination through images instead of words. However, we clearly continue to fail in honoring & embracing the breastfeeding community. We celebrate that women have rights of property, of voting, of ambitious careers, of holding public office... we insist that women's bodies no longer be objectified or sexualized... we raise awareness about breast cancer with slogans like "I heart boobies"... and yet we reject the true purpose & beauty of breasts. Mother's milk is set apart from any other bodily fluid: the perfect food delivered best from the source, in whatever quantity possible. It is discrimination to sequester a woman to closets or lavatories to ensure no one else is "offended" or "indecently exposed." Nothing about breastfeeding is indecent; its practice need not isolate mothers of young children. Those who are uncomfortable are those who should remove themselves or get over their own issue. Being an independent woman does not require that I nurture my children in a vacuum. In that environment, I will wither & suffocate. So how & where will we gather?

milk

So this week I've been devouring Ina May's Guide to Breastfeeding, & Chapter 14 is totally fascinating. It's about shared nursing, wet nursing & the ability to spontaneously lactate despite not having been pregnant or nursing recently. We're talking grandmothers, babysitters (who've never conceived) & adoptive mothers being able to successfully nurse infants to satisfaction! It makes me wonder whether I know anyone who has experienced this? Nursing has becomes such a hidden/private thing where we live that women seem hesitant to discuss it openly. But I totally want to. Thoughts?

how my brain works

Following some of the suggestions in Birthing From Within, while carrying Elijah I did a lot of writing /sketching & some full-scale birth art that really helped me process the beyond-words aspects of pregnancy. This time I haven't had the luxurious amounts of time to devote to such endeavors, but one very therapeutic project has been designing a logo for our doula for the birth of with surprise bump (final verdict above). It's meant to illustrate that the child's (seed/root) growing process inspires new growth in the mother (stem/shoot). The pregnancy, labor & birth all energize her growth. Also, the continuous line represents the connection of the laboring woman to all who labored before her, with the line's shape rising & falling in waves with the contractions.

If anyone's on the hunt for the kind of nurturing care that a doula offers, you can find Amber on facebook. She's been a dear friend of mine since before I married Nic, & we feel so at ease with her supporting us in this very vulnerable transitional place!

the place to be

Saturday night I thought I was going to witness my first burlesque show. Instead I arrived just in time to photograph the birth of Edmond Elias. It's the only natural birth I've witnessed, since Elijah's was another story; Mama was so strong & beautiful through all her hard work. He's a dreamboat already, this babe. Hopefully the sweater hat will suit him on his homeward excursion in a day or so. Upon arriving home at 1am I found my bread dough beautifully risen, so I baked sourdough rolls like an insane pregnant lady. They turned into ham biscuits for a Pre-Thanksgiving Feast Sunday night. Which was delicious & much larger gathering than I anticipated, like 30 people including 4 kids under two years!

mama theory

image via Flickr

Not always sure what triggers the inquiry, but I'm often asked if we are attachment parents or if we schedule our baby.  Usually I want to say, "both & neither" or "I read a little & experiment a lot" or "I'll let you know when the second one arrives." Though I do love our Moby wrap, we are wary of embracing parenting trends & are certain to offend people at one time or another because I am not a systems-oriented or left-brain kind of girl.

Both Elijah & I love to cuddle; we also both crave alone time & are miserable without it. He sleeps in his crib in his own room during naps & all night, from 8pm to 7am. Early on, I asked seasoned mums for help distinguishing hungry from poopy from pain cry so I don't jump at every nighttime fuss. When I realized that he was a spirited, energetic baby who wanted to bite or suck on something to wind down for sleep I consented to the occasional paci. Otherwise nursing was his only comfort & my source of anxiety; he still doesn't care for his thumb. We practice the 10 min rule for fussing (different than real crying), & he usually self-soothes within 3 min.

Once he weighed enough to not need the demand-feed approach, we slowly stretched him to every 2.5, 3 & (much later) 4 hr feedings. He learned when to anticipate food, to eat well, to sleep well; & that family rhythm adapts when illness or growth spurts or travel alter his needs (or my needs, for that matter).  Because I'm really not a homebody, I focused on regularly putting to sleep away from home (in pack-n-plays, other cribs, etc) rather than focusing on the length of each nap (a predictable range, but the length does vary). If pregnancy hadn't adversely affected my milk supply & his willingness to nurse, I would have kept it up through the upcoming flu season. For the health of my emotions & of our marriage, we have set aside on the same day each week: a date night together (often out of the house), an alone date for me (Nic stays home, I got out), family brunch & otherwise unscheduled Saturday (for family rest).

So we aren't strictly attachment parents & we didn't Ferberize Elijah. Sometimes I wish he would nap with me in the afternoons. Simply nursing, or wearing or sleeping with my babies won't guarantee a healthy or secure family. Those three tools of AP factor in that physical closeness is emotionally soothing to a small child & often to mama as well. The value I see is in taking the time & doing the work to find a healthy rhythm: where your kids can trust they are safe/loved being embraced into a marriage that can thrive.

nose in a book: postpartum

It's late in the day, but I just realized that today Elijah is 7 months old.
In the past year I've noticed a trend among women that scares me. We read a lot about pregnancy, attend birthing classes & reach out to one another before our babies are born... then as a new mama we're relatively unprepared for the long haul. I'd like to encourage us to educate & support one another in terms of life-after-baby as much as we do in pregnancy, labor & birth!  

Whether or not you plan to nurse long-term, your body will begin the hormonal switch to lactating as soon as birth is complete. How you cope with these changes is as unpredictable as the baby's sleep/eat pattern in those first few days & weeks. Books are great resources in advance, but in the moment of uncertain anxiety or confused tears the best resources are tangible people who know you well. Make certain you have women around who welcome your calls, emails, texts when these moments strike! Lactation consultants have their place, & some women find them enormously helpful. For me it was invaluable to text friends & mothers of young children when I was too choked up to talk clearly. Had I read more thoroughly about nursing/postpartum before Elijah's birth (I was busy freaking out that he was still breech), many of the feelings of crisis could have been overcome more quickly & calmly. Here are the books that I found most helpful:

The Baby Whisperer, Tracy Hogg & Melinda Blau
Even if all you read is the section about differing temperaments among babies, this book is worth thumbing through. Each child is different, but there are techniques to help calm them while reading their non-verbal cues. She covers feeding, sleep patterns, developing a home rhythm & how to remedy accidental parenting. Seriously, no one told me that Elijah wouldn't be textbook: he's what she calls a spirited baby, eating more enthusiastically & napping less frequently than average. Still totally healthy!

I've said it once, I'll say it again... 

Mothering the New Mother, by Sally Placksin
Your body's hormonal transition from pregnant to not-pregnant to lactating is the most drastic you will ever endure. It trumps menopause by a long shot. Every mama, after every birth or miscarriage, needs women to nurture her through this time. We need to learn how to do this for each other as well as receive it from one another! Thus, this book is a great resource for: moms, husbands, grandparents, sisters, daughters, doulas, neighbors, anyone really. We were not made to thrive alone, in joy or in sorrow.

Ina May's Guide to Breastfeeding*, Ina May Gaskin
Lactating is as a biological event. Learning to nurse, & helping them learn to eat from you, takes patient preparation both before & after baby arrives. Through storytelling & advice, she addresses baby's needs, your needs, sleeping arrangements, nursing in public & what it means to cultivate a breastfeeding culture. There's no need to be confined to your home or to criticize other viewpoints in order to nurse your baby.


*As a side-note, the story on page 27 (Amazon lets you preview it) expresses sentiments about breastfeeding that echo my experience with Elijah. Because we had a Cesarean birth that couldn't be drug-free, he was slow/weak to latch; it took weeks of pumping & using a nipple shield before nursing felt natural. And it was completely worth it for both of us! I'm very thankful to still be able to breastfeed him. It has healed my soul (along with my body ) to feed, comfort & connect with him in this way. My boy craves mama-skin time, loves to nurse, yet is content with a bottle when necessary. We are very blessed!

Daddy time

There is a precious hour, maybe 45 minutes, of each weekday evening that I guard like a mountain lion pacing the entrance of her den. It is the time when calls go unanswered, tasks are left where they lay & even a much-needed shower is postponed.

When Elijah hears his daddy's voice or sees him coming over the threshold of our home, his face & very demeanor alter without fail. Whether his efforts were to reach Anna's elusive ears (our tiny terrier), to inhale homemade mash or to fuss & fidget... Daddy time mends all anxieties & supersedes all other interests. The blatant, enthusiastic joy in my boys' eyes for one another revives & redeems each day. Every struggle or cuddle or tearful exchange feels worthwhile once I get to bask in this hour with them. Our boy has a belly-laugh that only Nic can elicit, & Daddy has a spark in his eye that only Elijah can light. Their play brings me rest & energy, contentment & anticipation, joy beyond measurement. It's why waiting until now to have a baby was perfect timing.