Last night around 11, Zoe woke up in tears. We hadn't turned her humidifier on (which seems to be a must have these days) and she was having a coughing fit and trouble breathing through her nose. Daniel was in her room first (he moves faster than I do now and I always try to hold back just a moment because my first inclination is to run to her when she cries and she knows this). I followed quickly and just in time to see her projectile spit up in her crib (hey, being a parent is glamorous). The two of us cleaned her up, kissed and hugged her, and told her everything was going to be OK. And then I took her into our room while Daniel cleaned up inside her crib a bit and filled the humidifier.
I rocked her in the new chair that we got to use for Finnegan (the wood glider we'd gotten when I was pregnant with Zoe just isn't comfortable). The chair has since become the family chair and my favorite place in the house to hold my fast growing daughter. She had barely woken up during the entire coughing episode so she was very quickly in a deep sleep against my chest, laying directly on top of my belly with her little brother pushing gently (and sometimes nudging strongly) against her. Soon, I felt all three of us relax into each other. Zoe's breaths became less forced and she was no longer snoring, but sighing sweetly in her sleep. I felt my breathing fall in line with her as I rocked her and watched her. And then within moments, Finn's stirring ceased and I felt him relax under the weight of his sister. It was one of the most peaceful moments I've had as a mother.
And in those precious minutes I realized without any reservation that I am good at this. I have my rough days, we have our rough days, but I can do this and I do it well. I'm a good mother to my daughter and I will be for my son. I worried at one time that it just wasn't possible for me to love anyone more than I love Zoe, but as the "three" of us sat there I knew that my love for my kids and for Daniel is incomparable, immeasurable, and vast.