And then, this past January, my husband and I brought home our one-day-old baby daughter. As we drove away from the hospital, I told my husband in a wondering voice, "There's a baby in our car!" Even after all the preparation, it seemed nearly impossible.
Throughout the first weeks with her, my husband and I stared at each other in sleep-deprived astonishment, laughing and asking each other, "Do you feel like a parent?" And slowly the answer shifted from Um, maybe? to Yes. Absolutely yes. We named our daughter Grace; it's an old family name, but also a word for possibility and renewal. Through Grace, we transcended our old fears and perceptions of ourselves that no longer fit. We discovered that life could be so much bigger than we had imagined.
Gracie is sitting on my lap as I proofread this essay. It's possible that my work has slowed down somewhat, but I also think that I've gotten more efficient, cutting away nonessential tasks. Life pours into new containers: I write during nap times and mull over plots during feedings. Gracie and I are half-minded together, dreaming together; she reclines on my lap and reaches for the pages of her cardboard book.
To my joy and surprise, I've learned that as important as it is to have space to work in, I don't always have to do it all alone. Sometimes a tiny new perspective is the best inspiration of all.