silence + apathy

back when i was almost twenty weeks pregnant, there was a moment where i completely freaked out about the new little babe growing in my belly. okay...there were many moments. but i knew they wouldn't last. i knew my heart would grow twice its size, expand so much i couldn't even begin to fathom it...at least, that's what i was told.

i was told i wouldn't be able to remember life without two. i was told i would fall in love with her like i did with my first.

and then she was born.
amelia mercy.

there was no expansion, no magical moment where we 'found our missing puzzle piece' to the family. more than anything, i was just completely relieved to no longer be pregnant. i was thankful for a quick and easy delivery and healthy baby, but i was confused and--much like at twenty weeks pregnant--i began to panic about what life would be like with this new little babe.

the first few days with our new girl were like most newborn days: leaky breasts, diaper changes, crying and loads upon loads of laundry.

after two days, hadley came home from her nana and popop's and i had a terrifying realization: i am full of apathy for this baby.

around the two week mark, towards the end of david's time off, i broke down. amelia was crying, hadley was cooking in her play kitchen and i lost it. i set amelia in the cradle and ran into the bathroom.

what is wrong with me?! i screamed at david. we have no connection! i feel like i don't even love her!

there i was, hysterical, sitting on the toilet (seat down) balling to david--bless his soul--and he essentially told me to pull myself together and feed my hungry daughter...which was not what i was expecting. i thought he could pull me out of this, say something that would suddenly change the way i was feeling.

but what i have been learning is that change does not happen the way we wish it would: suddenly. change and growth, with most things, happens in silence. where it seems almost as if nothing is happening.

so for a whole month i beat myself up, continually made myself feel guilty and questioned myself as a mother, a woman, even a human. what was wrong with me that i couldn't even bring myself to love this tiny, fragile, cooing baby girl? one who, i must add, we were so incredibly eager to meet.

yet all the while, we were sharing these moments in the silence: 11 pm and 2 am feedings, talking and staring at each other while big sister naps. slowly and silently my heart for her began to grow and i wasn't even aware. until this past weekend.

i pulled amelia off of my breast as she finished nursing and stared at her big gray-blue eyes, her pursed lips with traces of breastmilk still lingering and her button nose that looks an awful lot like her big sister's.

she's cute, i told david.

my heart was buzzing with warmth and i felt this sudden surge of energy, this rush of emotion welling up inside of me. i love you, i couldn't help but whisper to her. and i really really meant it.

mother teresa once said: the trees, the flowers, the plants grow in silence. the stars, the sun, the moon move in silence. 

how lovely, then, is the silence.