home again

There is nothing quite as satisfying as walking in my door following a birth. I wander around the kitchen, find a snack, talk to Majestic (she doesn't care what time it is) send out texts to my loved ones and climb into bed. The birth hangover is a mix of fatigue, joy, the wonder of the miracle EVERY TIME, and mental replays of the whole blessed thing. There is no such thing as a "cookie cutter" birth. Even for the same mama, each story has its own words. For me, there is something learned EVERY TIME. Today I find myself naturally drifting to the power of last night's birthing, Little A. and Big D. and their new baby girl, surrounded by the grammies and aunties. We all worked so hard. The chemistry of the team was just as it should be. There was trust, respect and so much love. Healthy soups on the stove didn't hurt either! So as I tuck this one away and prepare the the next ones, I give thanks to a gracious Father that heard my plea for wisdom and guided my hands to bring a little sweetie to an earthly family. Thanks also to you loved ones that send me messages of encouragement, offer up little prayers and check to see if I'm safely home. That is what gets me through when my own energy has long run out. Nursing this birth high for as long as I can. . .