Why is it always November I feel compelled to write? The words have come back, sifting into my moments again, their poetry lulling me back to the page. I thought I abandoned you, blog. Left you cold. But now I have nowhere to put these sentences but here. So here I am.
Two months ago I had another baby. Baby Number Two. Baby Drew. It took months to find his name inside of me. I kept asking him, asking him to tell me. I didn't want a D name. I always thought it was perhaps part lazy/part tacky to name your children with the same letter. I swore I would never. But that was his name. He swore it to me up and down. Whispering always. Every other name felt like a croak in my throat.
And so his name is Drew and I am madly madly in love with him.
Dave said the greatest thing the other day, that he didn't know how to explain it, but he swore that Drew had a good heart. Perhaps you can see it in his little baby smile, he crunches up and his whole body squeeeeesssss.
It's true what they say about second babies: you just don't worry like the first one. I am relishing every single moment of his little babyness. It goes so fast. I know people say that and it's really annoying and I'm not saying that like 'fucking look or you're going to miss something'! I'm saying that like 'i'm desperately trying to remember every tiny thing so I don't forget every tiny thing about you, even though I know better.'
I birthed Drew like a fucking warrior. All natural. Me & him & god. It was the most beautiful thing I've ever experienced. Absolutely mind-blowing. If I have another, I wouldn't have it any other way. To feel every part of that was humbling and empowering and I'm unbelievably proud.
I want another baby. I haven't told Dave this. I'm pretty sure he won't read this, especially when I forget to tell him that I picked up my blog again atleast until this post is buried. I knew right after having Drew. No question. This family needs One More. He would freak if he knew how absolutely my bones know this.
November in San Diego is so dark. I love to see the ocean in the fall, when she is left to her own cold, heavy heaving. When the summer has flitted away, the lightness of the tourists lifted. At night she labors like a sheet of lead rolling up and down the beach. I am thankful that I feel like sharing that.
