We went to Boston last week. Finally.
Two and a half months after that riotous day (January 6). The day when Lila arrived. A day we frankly had thought would never come. For two and a half months we watched the grandparents chat as the pictures and stories of other visits notified us of our absence 24 hours a day.
For two and a half months we sat helplessly halfway across the country watching her grow up before we could even get there. But last week, we finally got there.
We took most of the day shifts, giving Ben and Sam some down time, some nap time, some time to hang out in a way they won’t be hanging out for the next … say … 18 years (although let’s not tell them that … oops).
Oh, we suffered while we were there.
Rocking, Feeding, Cuddling. Helping with baths. Holding Lila on our shoulders where her hot little head would nestle contentedly against our necks. Or nestle perfectly into our elbows where she would fall asleep (as long as we were standing or maybe sliding in the magical rocking chair in the back room). As she began making real eye contact. Began babbling. Began smiling with sparkling eyes.
Oh, we suffered so.