We’re lucky. Beyond belief. And it’s made us realize that having this time together—having the time to heal and bond with Parker—shouldn’t come down to luck.

We’re even luckier to have the help and support of an incredible village of family and friends. Eliza comes over every day to do laundry, make coffee, and drop off groceries. Monty supplies all the pound cake and cookies I need to satisfy my voracious appetite. Plus, he does the dishes, loads and unloads the dishwasher, and pours us wine without judgment.

Meals arrive in a steady stream. I cry each and every time one is dropped off. Not having to worry about dinner—or lunch the next day, thanks to leftovers—is so, so nice when you’re sleep deprived, bleeding from your vagina and nipples, and so terrified to poop you give yourself stomachaches over it.

I’m sincerely touched by the outpouring of support we get. Meals, gifts, flowers. It’s overwhelming in the best way. And just the vote of confidence I need when my mood or body or both are flagging.

Gracie, Olivia, and Eva come over a week after we leave the hospital. They also bring gifts.

Only the gifts are for me, not the baby.

“Stop it,” I say when I open the body butter Eva got me. “You are too damn sweet!”

She gives me a hug. “It’s important that mama is taken care of so she can take care of baby.”

Olivia gifts me a Kindle Fire.

“So you can read during night feedings,” she explains. “Figure you’d need some entertainment to keep you awake.”

I grin. “Besides a baby sucking on my boob?”

“That’s not entertainment,” she says, laughing. “I already gifted you a few of my favorite recent reads to download on there—check your email. I hope you enjoy them.”

“So how is everything going?” Gracie asks after I open the specialty tea she made just for me.

Handing Eva the baby, I sit back on the sofa. Watch as she smiles down at him, tapping his little nose with her finger.

“We’re surviving,” I reply honestly. “The first couple days were really rough. But we’re learning each other. Bit by bit. The pain is constant. So is the sleep deprivation. Not to scare y’all—”

“Please,” Olivia says, waving me away. “If it makes you feel better to talk about it, give us all the gory details you want.”

“But yeah. The postpartum struggle is real. And graphic. And intense. I swear I’ve almost had panic attacks thinking about what my vagina must look like right now. I don’t know if I’ve ever been through anything this intense in my life.”

Gracie grins. “And you’ve worked with Greyson Montgomery.”

“I heard that!” Grey shouts from the kitchen.

Eva tilts her head in his direction. Lowers her voice.

“How’s he doing?”

My turn to grin. “He’s doing pretty great, all things considered. I’m really glad to have him around right now. Makes me really feel like we’re a team. Even though breastfeeding kind of fucks up the division of labor. I’m feeding that baby every two hours at least. So yeah, that’s been a lot of work. But Grey’s up with me to change diapers and clean up poop and puke. He’s a champ at swaddling. And he takes care of all the pediatrician stuff—making appointments, getting the paperwork ready, calling when we have questions.”