He stood hovered over the stove with a gravy-laden spatula held up near his head as though he were preparing to swat the bicuits into oblivion. The look on his face and the feeling in my haven't-shed-the-first-baby-poundage stomach were synonomous.
Oh God...my first words. He was silent.
No time to process, but time for a mini breakdown- just a quickie because Kovi's hungry and crying.
Spoon-feeding liquidfied pear is therapudic. It allows one, in between motorboat noises, a moment to think. Ok... two babies. Two butts, two mouths... two heart-melting, laugh-til-you-cry, earthshatteringly gorgeous babies.
Kovi's just 7 months. They'll be only 15 months apart. It felt like we had cheated him. Have we?
Justin used the word irresponsible. Mmm, yes. It feels a bit that way. Yet, somewhere in my sleep-deprived heart I can see/feel/know that this is what was meant for us.
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