Well, I no longer consider it cliche. It's the straight truth and boy, am I glad for our village.
Our village is my parents, who drove here less than 12 hours after Charlotte's birth and tirelessly cooked, washed dishes, did laundry, scrubbed our salty cars, held a sleeping babe, listened, encouraged, talked, prayed, supported, did more laundry, vacuumed, made more meals, and did more dishes.
Our village is Joel's parents and his brother who sent cards/gifts/flowers to our babe and who call regularly to check in and make sure we're all doing okay. Who admire Charlotte and tell us she's beautiful.
Our village is friends who got up in the middle of the night to come pick us up in the freezing rain when our power was out and our cars were blocked in by a fallen tree.
invited us into their home, let us crash in their bed and use their towels. Who had a bassinet for baby Charlotte to sleep peacefully and didn't complain when she wailed for food in the middle of the night.
Our village is the countless loved ones who have brought meals, sent texts, written emails, responded to Facebook rants, and complimented photos of our sweet little babe.
Our village is a church family who claps when I stand up holding a nine-day-old Charlotte in the Ergo carrier and stops by our seats after service to see how we're holding up.
I never want to do life alone, without our village. Praise God I don't have to.