we are pulled by separate gravities to ground

  

This is Abigail.  At 1:04 am on Easter Sunday she will be one month old. 

She has my chubby cheeks and a dimple in her ear from her dad.  She has hair that sticks out after she’s slept on it, just like mine, and a mouth that reminds me of my husband’s.  Her eyes are a blend of both of us, dark blue and almond-shaped.  Her expressions and personality, so far, are all her own. 

At the end of this week my maternity leave will be half over.  My boss, a very nice man (and “man” is the key term here), seems to think it will be easy for me once I return to work, because I am currently able to work from home, albeit with frequent business trips to D.C.   It’s a luxury to telecommute, that’s true, but it’s also tough because there is never the clear division most people like to mark between their domestic and working lives.  I felt I was just getting the hang of working from home full-time, and then my husband and I came to the conclusion that we’d had enough of romance and leisure time and spare cash, and decided to shake things up by having a baby.  Working with her in this house will be a whole new challenge.  Most days I try not to think about it. 

To say that everything has changed since Abby’s birth, including the intersection between my work and family life, would, of course, be a big honkin’ understatement.  Life is a lot harder now, and a lot sweeter.  I consider four straight hours of sleep a gift, I hold unapologetic conversations about the contents of diapers, I own - count ‘em - four different baby slings, I feel as though I have been reduced to a series of bodily functions and fluids, and every day – usually multiple times – I look at the baby or myself and think, “God, this can’t be normal.”  

Sometimes I can barely hold it together. Sometimes I don’t hold it together at all.  And yet I often find myself looking at our little girl and feeling so completely besotted that I wish we’d had her in our lives a whole lot sooner.  It’s a new kind of love we’re learning. It sounds ridiculous to say it, but our hearts feel bigger every day we know her. Welcome to parenthood, I guess. And to you, if you’re still reading this inaugural entry, welcome to our life.