It’s been two whole months since we welcomed our sweet Vera Charlotte into the world. I’m trying to savor every single moment because I know she’s our last baby. Each night-time waking, each nursing snuggle, each little smile and even those heart-breaking pouts and sobs. She’s a sweet chub of a baby, so different than her older sister. I remember Emerson feeling so fragile in my arms whereas Vera feels so hefty – so solid.
We’ve all fallen into what feels like a good routine. I know the routine will constantly be changing, just as quickly as little Vera. But for now I feel like I’m slowly getting my groove back.
Emmie has been overall wonderful in the transition of being an only child to suddenly having to share her parents with another little human, who really doesn’t do much but sleep & cry. Emerson has already fallen comfortably into the role of big sister. She is constantly informing me when Vera starts to fuss that I need to either “pick her up,” or “give her breastmilk.” And my sweet, tenderhearted Emmie will tear up and join in the crying if Vera is left fussing or crying for too long. Car rides are the worst, when I can’t actively soothe Vera, no matter how loudly Emmie demands it.
Slowly and surely I’ll get back into writing more for the blog.
Sometimes motherhood feels overwhelming. You become bogged down with all the worries, anxieties, and fears of not being enough. Not providing enough love, enough creativity, enough activities. You worry about singing enough songs, reading enough books, painting enough pictures. You worry about being present but encouraging independence. You worry that you’re just not enough.
And then, it all fades away in an instant.
I was getting Emerson dressed for the day. We were layering since there was still a bitter winter chill in the air and we were headed to the park. Tights, then leggings. A blue long sleeve bodysuit. I pulled out a faded Wonder Woman tee to throw over as an easy layer. Wonder Woman with her wild – yet glamorously tamed- hair, her bold bodysuit and fearless pose swooping in to save the day.
Emerson peaked over at the shirt and her face lit up. Pointing to the woman on the shirt, she gasp, “Mama!” And just like that, all those silly fears of not being enough faded into nothingness. According to my daughter, I was Wonder Woman.
I laughed and said, “You think that’s me?” Emerson’s classic ‘yes’ nod followed. Deliberate and slow: up, down. Yes. She pointed again, “Mama! Mama!” I laughed again, but this time, I nodded in agreement. Sure, kiddo, if you want to think I’m Wonder Woman go right ahead. And in that moment in time I knew; I am enough.