Released. That's the word that describes it most, this feeling that I've been
ready to burst (literally!) for months and I've finally exploded. Life is bright these past weeks - I feel rejuvenated, alive - and full of an energy unlike ever before. At the same time, in a different reality, I'm exhausted, too busy, and running on fumes alone. But when I open my eyes to that little squeak she lets out when she pulls her arms over her head in a sleepy stretch, with her
absolutely gorgeous eyes blinking themselves awake, I'm in heaven.
These past couple weeks I've taken on a new role in a life I never imagined for myself but that I've never wanted more.
The title of "Mom" has been plastered to my body, a title I once thought meant losing all other titles a person may have once had - even losing themselves. And as my days are consumed by diapers,
boobies, and trying to catch a few hours of snoozing here and there, I realize that despite all that, I'm still me, if not more so. With every thoughtful look, every adorable squeak and sound, and with every sign of this tiny creation we've made is growing and learning something as each day goes by, I'm filled with an awe for life. It's cheesy and
Hallmarkish, but birthing a child, parenthood, and all that comes with it really is a beautiful thing. Especially if you've just made the most gorgeous little girl I couldn't've even imagined.