Dear Eve

Dear Eve,

You are now 4 weeks old. You are wonderful.

You're very much alike your sister and yet very much your own person. I can't describe how you're "you" but in the near future I hope that those words will materialize. For now, I just marvel.

I have a confession: I'm in love. I have no idea how you managed to wriggle your way into my heart in such a short time, but you did. Your sister has accepted you into her life since your were in utero. She effortlessly claimed that she loved you, even before she could feel you kick. She has that marvelous "faith like a child" love. I owe her a heap of thanks for showering you with the love that I had a hard time realizing. 

In fact, it wasn't until the day of your birth as I was pushing you that it occurred to me that you were actually coming. The nurse said, "I hope you like a bald baby" as you were crowning. Her efforts to get me to push harder may have worked against her because I began to bawl. Out loud. I guffawed in a way that should only befit grief, but I assure you it was joy. And shock. But mostly joy. 

The tears haven't stopped. I cry on average once a day. It's mostly when I'm feeding you and gazing at how marvelously you were made. I cry at the mystery of your appearance. I know that there was IVF involved, a marvelous medical discovery. And I know that a heap of hope and perseverance didn't hurt either. But at the end of the day, no amount of positive thinking or medical cocktails made your blond lashes or peach fuzz hair. It was God. Pure and simple. 

And now I have the privilege to raise you, creation of God, into a woman who knows who she is, who God is and what love is. Amazing.

I'll write more later. The tasks of daily life are calling me again. 

But know that I love you and look forward to the days ahead,

Mommy