Three weeks ago we welcomed our daughter, Henrietta, into this world. It was 2 weeks past my due date. It was a long, wild labor. She was comfortable staying put it seemed. But 54 hours of pleading with her and my body, she came. And we are in love.
We are adjusting to life as parents. Getting the stacks of dishes done in the minutes in between nursing and changing diapers and soothing. Accepting the offers of help. Speaking of generous offers, my bee mentor came inspect the beehives for me this weekend. Midway she called to me in the house, I opened the door to see a cloud of bees buzzing around her. She said there were two full supers of honey and asked if we wanted her to pull them. We'd just harvested over 10 lbs. of honey about a month ago. I was holding a fussy baby, and I looked at Ryan who was scrambling to leave for work and said, "No, you can leave the honey. We don't have time to extract it right now." Parenthood is giving up fresh honey. Parenthood is prioritizing so that you can stay sane.
My "birth plan" went to hell 45 hours into labor and it seems that's the last time we'll make a "plan" for awhile. The loads of baby clothes we got as hand-me-downs are not organized, nor laundered nor folded. The car headlight is not replaced. The eggs are stacking up by the dozen, as I don't have time to sell them. Come over and you'll go home with as many as you like.
Did I mention though, that we are in love?