But there's a sensation creeping up on me that I am distinctly familiar with. The baby bug. The fever.
After that immense loss, I never thought I would have another child. The issues I was dealing with at the time seemed insurmountable and I was sure it wasn’t in me. But I eventually overcame my insecurities and had my Rainbow Baby.
I held my smile as they passed, thinking about that precious shift in my life when I was a new mom and my husband and I transformed from a couple into a family of three and remembered: it didn't feel precious. It felt like hell. I felt like a complete idiot.
But my second kid? A lot has changed since then. You'll see.
My eyes welled with tears as I sat her down on the grass for the very first time. I watched with so many emotions as she leaned forward and grabbed hold of the earth with both tiny hands. Even as she tumbled and got a face-full of dirt I was smiling.
I must admit, from where I sit, here in a rocker in a corner of the nursery, the future looks daunting. Terrifying. Overwhelming.
My parenting prowess peaked about three months before I actually became a mom.
I did everything I could to fall backwards, not forwards, and succeeded, only to land on Norah’s leg, that clung innocently monkey-like to my back.
No matter which line I wound up in, I had a gut feeling that I didn’t listen to, but instead played out every worst-case scenario.
If only I could have met myself, walking into the hospital that day. Contracting and breathing heavily, anxious to meet my first born. I would have held my shaking hand and wiped my salty tears from my pained face. I would have had the chance to say to myself what no Mother is prepared for. What they don't teach at birthing classes. What you don't think about as you're registering at Target .