I’m just going to start typing, because you have to start somewhere.
Our baby boy – still to be named – landed into his dad’s outstretched arms around 5:45 on Tuesday morning. Right now, he is resting on my chest, his soft nose nestling into that nook of my neck reserved only for my babies, and feeling him there is a force of such pure love it’s almost painful. I can’t go into details just yet. I’m one big hot mess of emotion and stringing sentences together feels impossible. I know words will come. I will find a space over the next few days to sit down with a candle, Bon Iver and my full, aching heart and tell his story — all I remember of that epic, wild and at times hilarious night. But for now, photos. Moments of the past two days I can’t look at without weeping.
That last picture? Completely breaks me. The first time I saw it, I sat with my head in my hands and sobbed.
We are home, settling into the new rhythm of our lives, learning him and basking in the million little moments I know I will look back upon and cry over. The moments which now define us as a family.
Watching my daughter meet her brother was hands down, one of the happiest moments of my life.
First staring. Just captivated staring.
And then this.
Joel and I looked at each other, tears spilling from our eyes, saying nothing. We couldn’t. It was just understood.
And now I have nothing at all in my life that means more to me than staring at these three people before me, wondering how on earth I ever came to be so lucky.
He is home.
And it feels as though he has always belonged here. Right in our arms. Right in our hearts. Gripping on tight.