So Happy Together

Okay, so it's not the next day and I know, don't make promises that you can't keep. But I'm thinking that terrible stomach flu counts as a legitimate excuse for breaking a promise. After recuperating for 4 solid days I finally feel ready to make good on my promise to write a happier blog.

It's odd that the hardest moments in life always bring out something good. I truly thought I was going to die on Thursday. Both Ian and I were laid out on separate couches, with poor Ainsley entertaining herself in her playpen for hours at a time. I was delirious with fever, wailing that I was a terrible mother for not having the strength to pick up my baby, or put her shirt back on when she kept taking it off, or comfort her when she kept getting annoyed for being "caged" for so long. It got to the point where I was convinced that Ian and I were dying of some foreign flu and Ainsley would be left to fend for herself until someone realized that we were dead and she was alone. And that we hadn't written our will yet so she'd go to the state and pretty much all hell would break loose. Of course we did not die and at the end of the day I realized there is no one I would rather be vomiting with than Ian.

These are those moments that they talk about when they say "in sickness and in health" during the vows of marriage.

Life is really an amazing journey. You go through your childhood years blissfully unaware of most pain and suffering, hit puberty when it seems like the world is crashing down on you, finally find yourself and your direction and then you meet someone, and even though you haven't known them before, you feel like they are home. Then you start a family and it is the most bizarre amazing experience of your life. By "your" and "you" I obviously mean me and mine.

I am constantly amazed by Ian. He surprises me and makes me laugh every day. In college we dated but kept our own circle of friends and I think that is why we ended up where we are. I am still me with Ian. I have never lost who Becky is (although previous posts may suggest the contrary). He lets me be who I am and loves me anyways...faults (and there are many) and all.

Just today we were on an outing with Ainsley and I was getting anxious over ludicrous things as I tend to do (where are we going to park, what if it starts raining, what if Ainsley flips her shit?) and he was right there, calmly suggesting that I "chill out". Of course he did not use this phrase because I would have spanked his face, but in so many words he got the point across. He knows me better than I know myself sometimes and I am constantly reminded of how much I love him.

Now we have this baby. This amazing, crawling, laughing, cooing, attitude-laden baby girl. We made her. It is the most incredible miracle that I can imagine. I know that Ian would scoff at this reference but I can't help thinking of the Stevie Wonder song "isn't she lovely".

Isn't she lovely
Isn't she wonderfull
Isn't she precious
Less than one minute old
I never thought through love we'd be
Making one as lovely as she
But isn't she lovely made from love

Isn't she pretty
Truly the angel's best
Boy, I'm so happy
We have been heaven blessed
I can't believe what God has done
through us he's given life to one
But isn't she lovely made from love

My faith has grown and grown over the years, but having a beautiful perfect baby girl is the greatest confirmation of the presence of God that I can think of. How else can you explain an otherwise simply romantic moment between two people resulting in a baby, a human person, with thoughts and feelings and a personality right from the get go.

Ian and I often ponder Ainsley's demeanor and have concluded that she was who she is from the start. Kicking away and deciding to come too early and then waiting for Christmas Eve to make her grand debut. This little girl has a personality and it's big and it's hers and we can only hope to tame it into submission before the terrible twos. I love her and I love Ian and I am so blessed that I can't even stand it sometimes.

So, there's nothing happier than a happy baby sleeping, a happy dad listening to an interview with Robert Caro on the couch, and a happy mom taking it all in on a quiet rainy Sunday evening nearing the end of September, is there? I thought not.