One Last Time

I can't shake the feeling of relief I have every time I look at this baby. I am so relieved that I will never have to endure the difficulties of pregnancy, labor, delivery, and the wonder of postpartum recovery. I must sound like a broken record to my family, because every morning I wake up and think, "I am one day closer to being myself again." And with that, maybe staying myself for a while... But at the same time, I have this overwhelming sense of relief that God entrusted to us one more life, that I will get to hold this tiny bundle of life in my arms and watch her tiny face experience the world as new everyday. I might not have decided to go ahead with number six if He hadn't surprised us with her. And I was so worried about what life would be like with another girl, but now it seems so natural. God knew we needed her and that she needed us. And He gave her a real sturdy set of lungs to make sure that she can be heard no matter what kind of chaos is taking place inside these four walls.
I adore her; she is such a miracle. And I'm surviving; I know some of you are wondering. It's a moment-by-moment journey that I cannot guarantee, in any regard, any sense of normalcy. But I don't have to because my life only demands the minimum of me right now, and I can oblige that much. I still haven't had a good cry, but it will come; wait, I can pretty much guarantee that, and most likely at the most inopportune time. Mostly right now I'm grateful that we have food in the freezer and the baby is resting in her little basket happily. There's a lot of work to do, and I could really use a donut and a cup of coffee, but I'll settle for graham crackers if it means I don't have to leave my refuge for another day or two.