Dear Emery,

Hello Sweet Girl,

You have discovered  how to reach for things when you want them, and how to hold onto things when you like them. For instance, my hair, my nose, my necklace, Daddy's beard... You also use your little, soft hands to trace the contours of my face. It makes me melt. You lay there so calm and peaceful (which is soooo very unlike you) and run your fingertips over my eyelashes, and my lips. I imagine that you are making memories of what I look like so you will always remember your mama. Just when I thought my heart couldn't get any fuller, you do something amazing. Like when you fall asleep snuggled into me, you reach up and place your hand gently on my cheek, and leave it there. How I love you sweet baby.

Keep calm, and carry on

How do you breathe when the lump in your throat is choking you? How do put your baby to sleep when you have only gotten to see her for three hours? How does your heart continue to beat when the reason it beats isn't with you?

I am not the first, and I know I won't be the last broken hearted mom to return to work. That doesn't mean that it hurts any more, or any less. It just plain hurts. You think it will progressivly get better, but it doesn't. You think you will stop tearing up for no reason other than you just wondered if they were awake yet, but you don't.

How do you put one foot in front of the other?

 or even better....

because my sense of humor has not yet been completely damaged :-)

On the bright side, it is Thursday tomorrow. Which means only two more work days, and Greys.

That is all.

It won't be like this for long"

*disclaimer* this post contains a bit if TMI, but if you know me it's no surprise!

Well, here we are. Sunday. January 8th. My box is packed. It is full of all the things girls fill their desks with. Nail files, hand lotion, pictures from home, snacks AND my breast pump. Yep. I said it. Have no fear fellow co-workers. You will not see me toting pump paraphernalia around, washing them and then leaving them to dry on the counter for all the world to see. A lot of things about me have changed, however, I still find the above sentence bad form. Just sayin'

I have also packed my broken heart, and all of my raw emotions in a box too. In the words of Darius Rucker, "It won't be like this for long" What that means, who knows. Nothing is forever, nothing hurts this bad for ever. "One day I'll look back laughing, at the week we brought her home"
I know there will be tears tomorrow. There may be a lot of tears tomorrow, but I have set out my waterproof mascara.

My little is calling, well actually she is crying. So away I go.

Say a prayer for me. And for Corey... As he has her tomorrow! HA!

Babes in Toyland

I am different. So much different than I thought I would be as mom. Well, as a woman really. I am different. I value new things. I want new things. New things are important to me, and new things all of a sudden are not. My heart beats for a new reason. I say prayers of thanks, rather than prayers for the lottery numbers (ok, I still pray for the lottery numbers). I read a quote the other day on Pinterest that said "Faith in God includes faith in his timing". I am trying to remember that.

The timing in my life right now, requires that on Monday I go back to work. While I may not like it, I am trying to remember to have faith in God's timing. Nothing is forever. While my heart is breaking, I remember to have faith in His timing. While I have a million things to teach my little, others have things to teach her as well. It takes a village to raise a child, and now, it is the village's turn.

I know I usually have much more to say than this, I am usually funnier, more witty, and generally much more entertaining. Well, at least I hope that I am. I just don't have it in me tonight. I have written this post though, for my sisters reading pleasure as she tells me she checks my humble blog daily and is disappointed 29 days out of 30. No disappointment today Caitlin!

Par for the course, I must post a photo or two of my little.

I found me.

One year ago today, I was sitting at my desk staring at a faintly positive pregnancy test. Scared to death. Ready or not, she was coming. As the days ticked by my life turned upside down. Oh the things I gagged at, and threw up in.

I was petrified that I would lose who I was, what made me, me. Who was I really? I didn't even know.

In Emery, I found myself. In Emery I found who I want to be. I know who I am. I am her Mom. I was born to be her Mom. I was put on this earth, to love that baby girl.

I have never felt love, like I feel for her.

Who would have thought...

That I would reach a point in my life where I would concerned about eating habits of someone other than myself. How much and when. What kind, and where it came from. This bottle verses that one. I am now consumed with concern about the length of time between bowel movements. Not mine, hers. I am concerned about the color, is it normal, is it not? I spend anxious hours thinking about why she is crying. I spend obscene amounts of time googling things like "acid reflux in babies" and "colic". I worry that I created a high maintenance baby that we can never put down and will have to constantly entertain, and that she will never sleep more than four hours in a row. I worry that she will scream the entire day when I go back to work creating a situation where no one will want to babysit her, and that she will never take a bottle, thus being hungry ALL DAY.

I have never been a person who had anxiety. I guess with the baby, came the worry. Boy, is she worth it. She is blissful. She is timelessly beautiful. I want to forever remember the sound of her cooing, and the sound of her sneezes. I love how she sneezes multiple times in a row. Just like me. At least something she is does is like me... I have admitted defeat... She looks exactly like her dad.

I worry, there for I am a Mom.

All is quiet on the western front...

It really is. For the moment. Quiet. Which unfortunitly in our little house is rare these days. Our little lady bug has quite the set of lungs, and her daddy's temper. (It has to be her dad's, as Lord knows I am just to dang sweet for a temper, HA!) We are praying that this is a phase, but our patience is tested every day. Thankfully we are so smitten with this little creature, all we want to do is help her when she has meltdowns. Everytime she eats. Seriously. Everytime.  I like to think of it as she is just very particular. She doesn't want a bottle, she wants me. She doesn't want to be held that way, she wants to be held this way. She is too warm, too cold maybe, heck she may just not like the socks I put on her. Or the dorky head band (which my brother kindly asked me to remove from her head, as I was making his niece look ridiculous. If she was going to wear a head band he said, at least put some feathers in it and make her look like Tiger Lily)

I am choosing to enjoy this moment of peace, while my Lady is resting quietly in her swing. (THANK GOD for the swing! Oh, and binkies too... I will pay for braces later) I am enjoying my decaf coffee with lactose free creamer, just incase the caffine, or lactose could be what is bothering her... I doubt it... but worth a try. (I am accepting unsolicited advise, should you have any to share. Really, we will take all the help that we can get.)

I am ever so grateful for my little Lady, and stare at her in wonder everyday. Even when she is screaming. I promise.



And now some pictures for your viewing pleasure!

This is her giraffe friend... Lord help us when the batteries die





Exhibit A: Meltdown