alt-j – left hand free | #notthemamawho

Hey, shady baby, I’m not like the prodigal son
Pick a petal eenie meenie miney moe
And, flower, you’re the chosen one

Well, your left hand’s free
And your right’s in a grip

With another left hand
Watch his right hand slip
Towards his gun, oh, no

N-E-O, O-M-G, gee whiz
Girl you’re the one for me…

I’m a mother of two. Neither of my hands are ever empty, nor will they be for quite some time.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is the story of how we met our Millsy girl.

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November 19th and 20th were wondrous days, our last as a family of three, our first as a family of four. Our {suddenly GIANT} firstborn son, our last born baby daughter {with the most amazing hair}, and us.

We spent the day before with Worth. We went to a fun kid’s activity center, snuggled him, and generally spoiled him rotten. I had BJ take a picture of my gigantic belly and then we settled in for our final sleep before baby. We woke up the next morning and drove to the hospital in the cool quiet darkness. They prepped me, cut me open, and handed me a baby with a  head full of hair. She was healthy and went straight to the breast for her first meal. It was all so very… calm. One of these days I’ll write Worth’s birth story out, and the contrast will shock you.

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We’ve talked endlessly about the differences between our birth experiences. So far, the experiences seem to align with our children’s personalities. Worth’s was exciting and tumultuous and challenging and endless and surprising and joyful. Mill’s was scheduled and easy and peaceful and mellow and simple and sweet.

Worth is a doting, attentive big brother and a wonderful helper {besides a few attention-seeking episodes involving absurd amounts of diaper cream…}. Mills is a content, happy baby. Watching their interactions has been the most rewarding part. Worth can’t get enough of holding his baby sister and Mills can’t stop smiling when he’s in sight. We’ve termed him “aggressively affectionate” and I think, “GENTLE!” is the most commonly spoken word in our household.

The weeks since those days have flown by, and my hands {and my heart} are always full. As I type this, I have a newborn asleep on my chest and a toddler tucked under my arm. My house and my kids are dirty and writing this is my current version of “doing something for myself”, but {for maybe the first time in my life} I can say that I am entirely content.

You can find the song here.

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