So...I'm a mom now. My husband is a dad. My baby...well, he's a baby. A perfect baby.
We're a family. Higs[cubed]. Musketeers. A brand new three.
When I named this blog, I was all dopey over the amazing, confusing unity that takes place in marriage. I was reeling over the redefinition of "we" and what it would mean in my life.
And now here we are...a whole different kind of we. A brand new three.
I don't even care if you think that's cheesy...even though I know it is, it's still blowing my mind.
We're about two months into this now ("this" being parenthood) and I think I'm finally getting past the this-is-entirely-surreal stage. For the first few weeks I found myself repeatedly thinking, and saying, "I can't believe we have a baby. Can you believe we have a baby? A baby. How did we get a baby?"
I think my husband was fairly concerned about my belief in the existence of our child. And about the Health Education class I must have skipped in high school.
Of course I know how we got a baby but...I mean, you know?! This whole life, this entire person who will have experiences and memories and opinions and thoughts...we started it. We did this.
Okay, no, I'm not past it. I still can't believe we had a baby.
He's an incredible little guy. He's really strong, and serious. Everybody says he favors his dad, and that's fine with me. I'm pretty fond of his dad. He's starting to really respond to us--following us with his eyes when we walk across the room, smiling and gushing when we lean close to talk to him, staring at us like we're his only lifeline if he's handed to anybody else.
We had a baby. A person. A third.
And he's great.