Bottle. Burp. Bounce. Bottle. Burp. Bounce. Sway from side to side. Try not to lose my mind.
And as I stood there bouncing away, the little baby in constant motion on my chest, hollering and swinging her head all about, I started to cry too. And I didn't know why. But somehow her determination to rattle at the top of her lungs gave me permission to loosen my grip--just a wee bit--on something I didn't even know was in me.
I think I'm gonna need Cold Stone ice cream on the way home.
That's okay. Right?