The first snowfall has hit our nation’s capital, and it really is lovely. The flakes are large and fluffy, and they are floating softly to the ground. I love it. I’ve always loved snow, but it makes me feel warm and nostalgic even more now that we have Azita.
I am reminded of the day we brought her home from the hospital. She had lost too much weight, and they wanted her to gain an ounce or two before they let us go home. It looked like we would be spending another night in our hospital room, and I thought I would go crazy. Azita slept on my chest as I watched old episodes of Law & Order and contemplated just how good a hot shower would feel, when the nurse walked in. And she wasn’t there to take my temperature and blood pressure yet again. “You’re cleared to go home,” she said. As I jumped up about as fast as someone who had a c-section 3 days earlier could jump and reached into my bags for her going-home outfit, the sky opened up and snowflakes and little pellets of ice began their descent to the ground.
Winter had finally arrived in D.C.Â I can’t say I wasn’t a little freaked out by the prospect of taking my 3-day old daughter out into the elements. Actually, I was petrified. But when we finally figured out how to get her into her carseat and were buckled up in our warm car, I looked down at my daughter as the snow blanketed our little world. All was quiet and white, and here we were. A family. I’ve never felt so cozy and content.
And now as it is snowing again, the first time this season, I hold a sleeping Azita a little closer and nuzzle my face into her neck. I am filled with that same warm feeling I felt 11 months ago, and all is right in my world.