Love Letter

I don't have time to write much these days. Zadie was born almost two and a half months ago and I've got my hands full with her fourteen pounds of perfection and Sabine's thirty something pounds of boundless energy.

I'm making time to put my current thoughts on paper (so to speak) so that I remember how I feel right now and so that Sabine and Zadie will know--sometime in their future--how blissfully over the moon they make me.

Sabine has adjusted to having a little sister. She was jealous and terrible at first, but now she cannot stop kissing and squishing baby Zadie, who is quite possibly the mellowist, sweetest, easiest, sleepiest, happiest, most easily consoled baby in the whole world. Sometimes I ask myself what I've done to deserve her because so far in my life, nothing has been this easy.

Zadie is in her swing now as I type this and is smiling so impossibly big that her mouth has taken over her entire face and my heart is a warm puddle of melted organ inside my body. Sabine is playing at a neighbor's house without momma or dada. There was a time not too long ago when Sabine wouldn't go anywhere without me. She always looked back to make sure I was close by when she tackled some adventure. But lately, she doesn't look back at all. I thought my heart would break when she stopped looking back. But my heart wants to burst out of this chest at the thought of her being so brave, confident, outgoing and beside herself excited about the smallest thing, or, the biggest thing in her eyes. I'm proud to let her loose into this wild world, to let her discover and soak up everything and anything that her little heart desires. I want to watch her swim in a glittering lake or turquoise waves and be dwarfed by epic and towering sequoias for the first time. She will travel and climb mountains and swing high and run as fast she can with boundless curiosity into almost everything she does. And I'm proud and happy that she is mine and so full of life. And I will be here every time when she needs a place to come home to; arms to hold her; a voice to console her.

And for now, I'm holding onto Zadie's quiet sweetness. I'm swimming in her smiles and affection, waiting for her to blossom into someone wonderful, but different from her sister. I can't wait to discover who she will be. Motherhood is quite possibly the best thing I've ever done (and I've done a lot).