Thoughts on Eight Weeks

The picture’s just from my phone so it’s not that great, but I can see that she’s growing. (And yes, her cowlicks are still there and they are wilder and wilder.)

This has been the strangest eight weeks of my life. I thought I was never going to be a parent. I had put it out of my mind and was very happy with my hobbies, my family, and my friends. I thought I might adopt someday. God and chance decided differently.

I totally fell in love with her when I saw her. I knew I’d love her but I didn’t realize how much. How can I describe it? It wasn’t just that I loved her. Meeting her increased my capacity to love. I love Carlton more, value my friends more, and grew even closer to siblings, my Dad, and my best friend, my mom. I realized Mom’s and Dad’s immense sacrifices that they made for us in a whole new way.

I cried a lot in the beginning and I’m still more prone to tears than a junior high school student. I would honestly do almost anything, sacrifice almost anything, if it helped her. I haven’t given up on nursing despite the repeated difficulties I’ve had. Her weight is still a struggle, but the appointments from Monday seem to be making a difference. I feel a sense of sad joy when she outgrows an outfit: sad because I know I’ll never again see her in that phase again; joyful because she’s gaining weight and I’m excited to see her little personality develop.

The other surprise is that I didn’t lose myself, though. I miss my free time and especially my friends, but what little time I do have, I do like to spend in the same ways. I’ve brewed beer, hosted football parties, and haven’t missed an episode of Heroes yet. I don’t want to curl up with her and shut out the whole world. That suffocates her and stifles me as well.

Ainsley doesn’t define me; she just betters me.