Rhiannon was tired. Bone-deep tired to the point that she wasn't figuring on catching up on her rest until Sophie went to school or maybe college. She was sore like never before too, but she'd been told that would fade.
Still, she was happy. The presence of Sophie had put a big bundle of warmth square in the middle of her chest, and she was fascinated by the way she was utterly content to count her tiny toes and fingers and pick out the little pieces and parts of her features that reminded her of her or Tristan. This was, of course, when Sophie wasn't being a little sleep terrorist or a veritable poop machine (she seemed to save only the really big ones for when she was alone with Rhiannon thus far), but she was like all other babies in that regard, Rhiannon supposed.
"I love you too. And she is pretty freaking beautiful, isn't she?" Rhiannon said with a smile, running her finger tip over the softness of one of Sophie's chubby, pink cheeks. Sophie had come out in perfect health, which was really all she and Tristan could ask for. Of course Rhiannon thought she was the most gorgeous thing ever created, but she also knew that was a mother's bias and she would've thought that no matter what Sophie had come out like.