I fought for Piper. Through my trying to conceive journey when people said I should take a break, or just see what happened, I ignored them and just tried harder. I fought for her to be born naturally in a quiet room with a few people rather than in an operating theatre surrounded by surgeons under bright lights.
And then, both later and sooner than I expected, there she was. And I suppose expectations are made to be broken. I expected that if we had a girl, she would look like Riley. And in some ways she does, but when she was born I was surprised when I was presented with this gorgeous olive skinned, black haired baby. I thought that it might take me awhile to feel connected and bonded with her. But when she was born she felt like mine almost instantly. I was under the illusion that I had a high pain threshold and I was very, very, very wrong.
And I entirely underestimated just how much I would love having a second baby. If I didn’t have to conform to basic hygiene requirements I could quite happily spend all day looking at her. As it stands, she would prefer I spend less time looking, and more time feeding. Happily, we usually manage to do both. There’s nothing I don’t love about it, except sharing her around with other adoring people. Which I force myself to do, but I don’t have to like it.
I’m excited to find out what kind of little person she turns into, but mostly I’m enjoying her toasty chest cuddles.
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My name is Zoey. 
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