On Thursday it will be three weeks. Three weeks as a family of four. Three weeks knowing and loving a sweet baby girl named Claire. Three weeks having two daughters.
Elianna, mommy-deprived as she is, lacks no attention from her gma’s and daddy. Some days I think she doesn’t notice her mama is constantly attached (literally) to a real live baby. Other days I see it in her eyes. A sort of wistful longing that she endures with grace and understanding. Emotionally, this is harder for me than physical recovery and a stomach bug.
If only I could recover faster. If only I weren’t so very tired and could get some energy to really play with her.
But she’s a trooper.
I think she understands.
And boy does she love her sister.
Every morning she bursts into our room asking to see “baby Cares,” and isn’t satisfied until she has palmed every inch of Claire’s body. We struggle through the concept of being gentle and slightly wince at the grips that are a bit too hard, but mostly we love. Love watching our girls interact. These small weeks of recovery will soon pass, and before I know it, our wee bundle will run around with her firecracker of a sister and I’ll know that El will always be grateful. Well, at least most of the time.
I have such a strong place of affection for each girl in my heart. They are different places, one not greater than the other – though one more developed I suppose, and in these places I like to rest. At night when Claire wakes me for a meal or outside in the afternoon drawing pictures with chalk on cement squares with a girl in pigtails, I rest in pure affection and love for them.