The other day, as my husband and I crossed a busy parking lot with our two girls, I caught a glimpse of our reflection in a store window. Nick was carrying S, who is now nearly 3, and in my arms, I was carrying our tiny newborn daughter, E. And the reality of that picture hit me for the first time--we are now a family of four.
Whoa. Now how the heck did that happen?
Well, of course I know how. But I mean bigger picture than that. And I think the answer is that I prayed for it. We loved being parents to S so much that once we decided it was time to start trying for a second baby, I suddenly wanted it to happen so badly, and immediately. And when it took a bit longer than that, as it does for so many of us, I felt as if we'd never have another baby. I remember one Friday night in February crying to Nick that it wasn't happening, wondering if it ever would. I felt desperate, even a bit angry, although I didn't know at whom or what.
The next morning I found out I was pregnant. And I cried again, with relief this time.
Fast forward to November 1st--a full 8 days past my due date--and Nick and I were holding new baby E in our arms. It was a familiar feeling and yet, completely new at the same time. E was bigger--and balder--than S had been. E looked more like Nick; S like me. And yet they had the same long graceful fingers, the same dark blue eyes.
The next day, when S came to visit us at the hospital, we watched with awe as our two daughters met, as S proclaimed her little sister to be "good."
We couldn't agree more. It was all good.