Last night I teared up while explaining to Husband every milestone makes me nostalgic. I even cried at my six week follow-up doctor's appointment. When sweet Dr. L grabbed my hand and looked at Charley, complimenting her in all her baby-ness, it felt like a door closing. That door opened last December with a plus sign on a little plastic stick. Ten months later with a pat on the back I'm out the door with this creature who has overwhelmed my world.
Let me be clear - I know people have babies everyday. Multiple babies. Some have nineteen and get their own TV show. Baby C is not miraculous in that sense. She eats, poops, sleeps, cries and obsesses over ceiling fans. (This is her new favorite activity.) But for Husband and I, each of whom thought having kids wasn't in the cards, she's surprisingly interesting and even - dare I write it - fun.
I commented to Husband that we met about two and half years ago. We both paused. In that time, we met, got engaged, moved in together, lost family members, got a dog, got pregnant and brought home a baby. That's a busy two years.
I'm all over the place with this entry, probably a reflection of my emotions.
A final thought before wrapping this up will be a little advice. Not that you asked, but it's my blog and I feel like dispensing. Don't wait until you're 39 to have a kid. This is a young person's game. I'm like the chaperone busting a move at the seventh grade dance. When my knees crack standing up from the glider, when my crows feet look more pronounced from lack of sleep, when I do the math of how old I'll be when she graduates - it's difficult. It almost makes you endorse teen pregnancy. (I'm kidding!)
But the most difficult aspect is the realization of how selfish I got to be for nearly four decades. Once you have a kid that comes to a screeching halt. Also coming to a halt is the ability to blog about anything but your kid. I'll try to diversify now that I'm rejoining the real world. One can hope.
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