The first three days out there were the endorphins, feeling like I was on some transcendent plane, invincible and rooted birth mama. Then my energy plummeted and I heeded the midwife's advice to stay in bed, not even to descend the stairs for anything. Clara and I fell into the same schedule: long stretches of sleep, punctuated by ravenous eating. At this point, Geoff was still off work and he was Atlas, world balanced on his shoulders. Manny and Benici enjoyed Geoff's long days off, Dad the escort to birthday parties, the food coop, even church. Then this week, life went back to normal and all I can say is, "Pray for us." One on one, I can manage their requests but the boys' fighting and Clara's crying all unnerve me. When Benici was born I would say, "It's a juggling act. I'll just be very patient with myself." Now, I see that it is a three ring circus and I have to be patient with myself, with each of them, and utterly surrender to the reality that I have chosen this work and that this mothering is what I am called to do now. So I need to innovate a little and allow Manny to try and peel his own apple and trust Benici with the CD player. As for Clara Margot, a mom at school today told me that the baby and I are still wired to feel like we just can't be separated. It's true, she still feels like she's part of me, this total being but who feels like a second heart I grew that now exists independently. After not seeing her for a bit, I look at her and am filled with this thrill of all of our adventures together but also this comfort like she's a friend that I have always had and nothing ever fades between us. All this, and the girl's only two weeks old. Happy two weeks, Clara Margot, little baby.