She immediately bewitched us with her baby ways.
Suddenly it became clear: all the sweet songs and poems are about her, all the planets spin for her.
Our hearts are in a state of beautiful wreckage.
But like magic, these hearts have never been more intact.
Nothing is for certain. Anything can be.
Parenthood is terror and serenity, chaos and order, day and night, calamity and victory.
Does all of this seem over the top? It is, dear reader. It is.
Simple truths abound. Life is a circle.
Each day is a series of epiphanies.
Neurons are firing and synapses are connecting at an unprecedented rate.
It is earnest and exhausting work, growth.
We are frankly astounded that she is real.
She has joined a wild tribe of girls.
And the world awaits, little one.
