Well, I've done it. I have a baby. More than that, I have a daughter. "Daughter" sounds much more permanent, somehow; I guess because it is. She won't be a baby for long (unfortunately), but she will be my daughter for the rest of my life. She is a fabulous creature. Beautiful, fascinating, demanding periodically with these long periods of peacefulness between. She has huge, dark, blue eyes (for now) and dark hair that starts at her ear line like an old man. She also has perfect ears. And hands, and precious little lips that smile in her sleep.
I've decided that Abigail is the perfect name. Abigail Adams, Abigail Bartlet -- she has a dignified and adult choice to resort to when introducing herself -- but she is also approachable Abby, and lovey and sweet Abby Jane to her mama.
I keep taking extreme close-up pictures of her face, because it is so expressive and miraculous. Every time I look at her, I smile, and every time I watch her face go through its constant contortions of emotion and surprise at new sensations and curiosity and yawning and sneezing, I laugh aloud (with her, not at her, of course). I adore this child, and I fervently pray to God that She will keep Abigail safe, that She will help her to retain that sense of peace, and that She will make me a worthy mother.
Right now, she wants to be fed. Abby, not God.
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