I am not a baby person. I get hungry on fast Sunday, I know how that feels. I do not get baby hungry, I do not know how that feels. I have to be honest even though mothers may wrinkle their nose in scorn when I say that I was not excited to have another baby. Some moms spend their times preparing the nursery and trying to decide which outfit would be the cutest to bring home their bundle of joy. I just felt overwhelmed thinking about going all the way back to yellow poop, pterodactyl primitive shrieking in public places, uncomfortable leaking nursing bras and preparing to transform into an emotional grumpy wildebeest because I would have no sleep.
I have been completely shocked at how everything I thought was wrong. I never knew I could feel this way about having a baby. I feel like Grace is my birthday present from heaven. She sleeps. She loves to be held. She is beautiful. She smiles. She makes me happy. So deeply happy. She's like heaven and spit up combined. I know that I need her in my life. These three months have been a bazillion times better than I ever anticipated.
Don't get me wrong, she still poops and cries. She's not from Toys R Us, and I think I will always miss the distant concept of sleeping in, but she is exactly what I need. I feel a connection to her that I can't explain. I feel like it is such a privilege to be her mom. I feel like her spirit makes me feel like I'm in spiritual diapers, the preemie size. I didn't know that when we named her Grace, she would fit her name so perfectly.
She still sleeps in our room. It's weird because even though she's fine to sleep in the next room over, I just don't want her to leave yet. I feel like I would be kicking out a room mate that I really love.