Life is Grand...Even When it's Snot.

I haven't somehow managed to write much yet about what a doll Zola is.  I was joking at a Christmas party the other night that for the second child all I've put on here is "See first baby".  And while it is easy to talk about the things that are hard, the truth is that everything that was lovely and stunning about my first baby is equally true, if not stronger with my second.  Zola is an absolute pet and I love her with all my heart as I did with Nahanni.  Her vanilla breath is as sweet - or perhaps sweeter for it is laden with the sad note that she is my last baby (I think...no, really, she is.  I think).  The worst thing is that there just isn't the time to dote and swoon that there was with Nahanni.  Or, I still dote and swoon, I just don't have time to write about it.  But I love having this baby every bit as much as I did the first time, and I am able to enjoy much of it more than I did as I am a) not half dead from blood loss and, b) much more chill than I was the first time.  I know eventually this child will eat french fries or potato chips so I don't get so worked up about the little things.

As for Nahanni, while it may seem that she and I are walking a rocky road, I recognize that in some ways I have done her, as well and her and me somewhat of a disservice when I speak here of the trials and tribulations of our recent times.  But I had a dream last night that illustrates the truth.  She and I were walking down the street and somehow she went from having her small hand in mine to being lost. I could hear her crying, that distinctive wail I have heard oh, so often lately - but because I knew she was lost and scared it was chilling.  She was yelling for me and I kept saying "Nahanni!  Keep crying so I can hear you! Louder!  Mommy's coming, I'll find you!" and like a horrible game of 'hotter/colder' I kept running towards her fading voice, panicked trying to find her.  Suddenly I found myself in a rural field, far from any homes and her cries had faded to a whisper on the wind.  I stood alone in this snow swept expanse while my daughter's cries faded away and I wept because I knew she was lost, utterly and completely.  I woke up in a dense sweat, my heart racing.  I crept to her room just to see her porcelain face, her lovely pink cheeks and ruby lips.  Her impossible lashes blinked slightly as she lay dreaming, completely safe and lost only to her dreams.  I knew then that even though we might be struggling lately, she will never be lost.  She is loved even at the worst of times and I would search to the ends of the earth to find her is she were missing for even a second - physically or metaphorically.

We'll be just fine.