On January 12, at 12:12 Wells Ridley came into the world peacefully, happily, and already hungry. The long journey to meeting our second baby began well over a year ago, when we decided to leave New York for a simpler life with a few less 'things' and a lot more love. Some heartbreak along the way caused us to contemplate giving up, but then last March I saw an email from a vendor on Welles Street in Connecticut as a sign from God that he or she was still meant to be.
In 2011, when our first love joined us on May 15th, the story was very different. A traumatic labor and delivery started us off on a rough road that continued to incline with each mile, terrain so thick it at times blocked the light. But we came out on the other side, and eventually found our groove. Luckily age and experience has made this adventure altogether unlike our first foray into parenthood. There is instant love, immediate joy, and undeniable devotion. I actually used to loathe people spewing about newborn love, and often couldn't even understand it. But I can say the second time around is a total game changer. There is, however, also pretty palatable guilt, bitter in my throat, over the fact my love was not so automatic the first time. And tangible doubt about my ability to be a competent mother to two boys while I work full time (yes, basically even during these first 2 weeks) and care for the vastly different needs of a 13 day old baby and a five and half year old growing boy. But we wake each day ready for what the challenges will be, espresso in hand til 3, wine in the glass til 9.
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