We stood in the doorway, gawking. Our apartment was almost unrecognizable. We had hurried out the door in the wee hours of Tuesday, a family of two, and now we were back on Thursday, returning at a slower pace – in fact, fairly gliding along so as not to jiggle the very tiny third family member sound asleep in her car seat. Every surface was covered in flowers, cards, and gifts: a welcome sign draped down the wall, courtesy of the kindergarten class, pink balloons on the ceiling, adorable baby clothes hung across the curtain rods, and the counter laden with a heaping It’s-a-Girl basket with a pink champagne bottle peeking out the top.

Bringing home a baby on the Bruderhof is no small affair.