HUMBLED & HOPEFUL

Was it like this for you when you had your first child? I know we are not alone, which is a comfort. Though she brings such an immeasurable joy, it is almost too much, too rich, too full to be contained. Were we to have a cup like the psalmist, surely it would be overflowing. How good and sweet it is to sit for hours and watch her. We couldn't do this alone. We need you to remind us that it's not only natural, but that it is good, for these days are, indeed, on the move, and so will she be soon.

This child of ours is a sight to behold -- pictures do nothing to tell of her warmth, her sweet smell, her tiny voice that coos and girgles, her blindingly beautiful eyes, and her soft feet and face. To look at her, to hold her, to have her crying and flailing to find a resting place in our arms is itself an experience too rich for words. Who knows what is going on in that tiny but grace-filled lilt of hers, those frail but promising eyes? All I know is this: to see her is to believe that at the end of the day, there is a home to come home to, a face to behold, a swimmingly fidgety body to hold, caress, and protect, and that, all evidence to the contrary, everything stands a chance of being OK.

At the end of week two of these fleeting newborn days, we are and always will be new parents who are humbled by it all and hopeful. And somehow, we're finding that hope really does spring eternal every once-in-a-while. That is good enough for us.