About one year ago, when the weather was just like this - hot and sticky - and we were smack dab in between the two July holidays, I was scared. There was a little, squirming kicking baby in my belly, just days away from making his or her debut. And I wasn't scared of the baby; I was scared because I wasn't so sure about how I was going to make the whole mom-of-two gig work. I mean, the first one stole my heart entirely? How could I possibly love another as much? How could I be enough? I still remember as clear as crystal the evening before I was induced. I was a heap of fear and tears. How was this ever going to work?
And then she came out. And my heart was all, well, that was easy. Just like Belle seemed to slide into a special spot in my heart made just for her, Lou did the same. I will admit that being a mother of two has left me feeling far more inadequate than the one baby job, but it most definitely leaves me feeling more fulfilled, more grateful, more loved. I think one of the most amazing things about being a mom is not how much I love my babies, and heaven knows I love my babies. It's how they love me. Lou is at that perfect age where she isn't yet capable of being naughty or deceptive. It's simply not in her nature. She's a perfect mixture of goodness and cheer. When she looks at me, I know that I am loved. Simply loved. Because it's just what she does.
And isn't that something?