"One, two, one, two," Greta counts.
Three is too hard to remember and too hard to say.
So "one, two" echoes throughout our rooms.
"One, two, one, two" my heart strums along.
One. Two. One. TWO.
We are so close. On the precipice of two.
Most days I can't comprehend the two, and I get stuck on the precipice.
I can feel it. Something big is coming. Change is hovering in the air.
Sometimes it sucks the breath right out of me--waking me up in the middle of the night.
Sometimes it makes me panic over what still needs to be done.
Sometimes it stops and stills me, as I realize our days and routines won't be the same.
I'm breathing in my time with just Greta extra slow and heavy. Walking hand in hand. Eating our morning cereal. Hearing her holler "HELLO!" Singing rounds and rounds and rounds of "patty cake." Lying next to her in bed and watching her eyes grow heavy and flutter to sleep. Having her cook next to me in the kitchen, and then hand me something to eat pronouncing, "It's dinner time!"
These are such sweet days for the two of us. She wants me to join in everything, and she wants to be a part of everything I do. And she's started calling me "Mama" again, instead of just "Mom," which just kills me.
"Mama. Bath. Get in!"
"Mama. Come. Rest. Bed." (Or, let's be honest, "Mama, get up!")
and the most common phrase around this house is, "Mama, coming too?"
She repeats and repeats it. "Mama, coming too?" She lifts my hand to pull me up and bring me with her. She can't stand being upstairs when I'm down, or downstairs when I'm up.
We are happy friends and companions that spend almost every hour together.
Thinking of change tugs at my heartstrings a bit. I hate that it's bittersweet.
I know I won't lose Greta to the new baby. But this sweet undivided time is precious. And the adjustment period really might be rough on her and make her angry. And our days will be different, and this time will come to an end.
...But amid the sentimental worries, there's this other sneaky excitement that has worked it's way in. I can feel it catching and taking hold over my heart. There's a new girl coming! We know her a little bit now, and we know how we feel about her now, but she is coming soon! And we get to meet her! And she will be ours!
We are sure she will add. She will add and add and add to our family. She will add joy and surprise and a whole new person and a whole new round of delights. I'm sure she will also add some layers of trickiness as we figure out how to have twice as many kids as we have now. She will also add exhaustion and worries. But we've already learned once that adding to our family is the best kind of adding.
There are no more than a few weeks left. Or maybe days. I'm already past the point I was when I delivered Greta.
One, two, one, two.
Two will be nice. Two will be right.
One, two.
One, two.
Three is too hard to remember and too hard to say.
So "one, two" echoes throughout our rooms.
"One, two, one, two" my heart strums along.
One. Two. One. TWO.
We are so close. On the precipice of two.
Most days I can't comprehend the two, and I get stuck on the precipice.
I can feel it. Something big is coming. Change is hovering in the air.
Sometimes it sucks the breath right out of me--waking me up in the middle of the night.
Sometimes it makes me panic over what still needs to be done.
Sometimes it stops and stills me, as I realize our days and routines won't be the same.
I'm breathing in my time with just Greta extra slow and heavy. Walking hand in hand. Eating our morning cereal. Hearing her holler "HELLO!" Singing rounds and rounds and rounds of "patty cake." Lying next to her in bed and watching her eyes grow heavy and flutter to sleep. Having her cook next to me in the kitchen, and then hand me something to eat pronouncing, "It's dinner time!"
These are such sweet days for the two of us. She wants me to join in everything, and she wants to be a part of everything I do. And she's started calling me "Mama" again, instead of just "Mom," which just kills me.
"Mama. Bath. Get in!"
"Mama. Come. Rest. Bed." (Or, let's be honest, "Mama, get up!")
and the most common phrase around this house is, "Mama, coming too?"
She repeats and repeats it. "Mama, coming too?" She lifts my hand to pull me up and bring me with her. She can't stand being upstairs when I'm down, or downstairs when I'm up.
We are happy friends and companions that spend almost every hour together.
Thinking of change tugs at my heartstrings a bit. I hate that it's bittersweet.
I know I won't lose Greta to the new baby. But this sweet undivided time is precious. And the adjustment period really might be rough on her and make her angry. And our days will be different, and this time will come to an end.
...But amid the sentimental worries, there's this other sneaky excitement that has worked it's way in. I can feel it catching and taking hold over my heart. There's a new girl coming! We know her a little bit now, and we know how we feel about her now, but she is coming soon! And we get to meet her! And she will be ours!
We are sure she will add. She will add and add and add to our family. She will add joy and surprise and a whole new person and a whole new round of delights. I'm sure she will also add some layers of trickiness as we figure out how to have twice as many kids as we have now. She will also add exhaustion and worries. But we've already learned once that adding to our family is the best kind of adding.
There are no more than a few weeks left. Or maybe days. I'm already past the point I was when I delivered Greta.
One, two, one, two.
Two will be nice. Two will be right.
One, two.
One, two.
