Monday, April 2, 2012

Five

Memories of the past two weeks should be a blur. After all, the first two weeks with a newborn usually are. Add a sick four year old, a sick two year old, a sick husband and a sick newborn, six trips to the doctor, two and three doses of two different types of antibiotics, one Disney Pixar Cars box of kleenex, one nasal aspirator, three visits from the midwife, two weeks of waiting, one new posting in India and it should closely resemble amnesia.

But for some reason when you get whacked on the head you still see stars.

After Paul returned to work today after his two weeks of paternity leave, all of my are visions through blurry eyed goodbyes are of snuggling in bed with our baby girl, the warm sun shining in our open windows, a single white butterfly flittering above her bassinet just outside our open window. Warm brazilian breezes carrying the sounds of parrots in the trees and neighbor kids frolicking in their pools softly into our room. Long family naps, long conversations about our present and about our future, good meals shared from friends and those pulled together in seconds, taken in no hurry at all. Late nights and early mornings. Dim light from the bathroom oozing softly into our bedroom while I nursed Clementine and Paul waited, softly drifting next to us to wrap her back up and rock her back to sleep. Coffee delivered by my boys in the morning, hot pao de queijo, morning cartoons, Kratz brothers, walks by the lake, breakfasts and coffees in both new and familiar places. Lots of legos, lots of puzzles, lots of love.

I wasn't looking forward to today. I know Paul has to work, but I prefer to live in a land of make believe. One where we could live like this forever. The two of us, tiny soft newborn babies, little boys, nursing in the soft glow of a bathroom light, waking up with nothing to do and no where in particular to go. Days that go on forever, nights that go on forever...without the years that fly by. SO without the years that fly by.

People ask me if I've taken a million pictures of Clementine. "You're a photographer, you must already have a million pictures of her, right?"

I do, but my favorite ones are in my head.

I fail to be able to capture the feeling that coincides with the last two weeks. The first two weeks. Then again the images I have in the rolodex of my mind are far more important than those filed within the folders of my hard drive.

Today I braved life for the first day solo as a mom of three. I am so proud: of my family, of my husband and of myself.

When I approached Paul a little over a year ago about the prospect of adding one more to our posse, he balked at the idea, but being the great man that he is gave me an opportunity to explain my heart before saying no. I recall responding that I just felt like there was someone else out there for us and just like the naming of Clementine, that was the end of that conversation, too.

I think he'd agree now that despite the fear of change and sleepless nights and endless hours of car seat installation, that there was indeed someone else out there for us and neither of us could ever imagine having not taken a chance on Clementine.

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