I am just about ready…

Everything is set and pretty much ready to go!

The party favors are assembled and in a box, ready to go.
The cake has been ordered (Tinkerbell, of course)
Decorations are ready to go
Gifts have been bought (but need to be wrapped)
I have a card for the babies to give Emily, still need to get one from mommy and daddy…

Everything is ready – except me.  I remember the details like it was yesterday.  Waking up to my water breaking, contractions, Obama’s state of the union with Nancy Pelosi jumping up and down like a maniac, the drive to the hospital, checking in, the room, the nurses, the monitors, the beeping, the ice chips, the nurses forcing freezing cold drinks into me when I wanted warm drinks (because Emily’s heart rate kept dipping and they wanted it up for birth), D leaving a few times for things we forgot (turning off the alarm clock type things, good thing we lived minutes from the hospital).

Ad I remember pushing, that ball of blue (the cord had not been cut yet, nothing to worry about), you being rushed first over to the Neonatologist who was standing by and who we later learned would not be covered by insurance without a 2 year fight because we did not get it pre-approved.  And then what I had waited so long for, the question…  I finally heard, “What’s her name, mom?”, and for the first time, we told people what I had known for months and months, I finally got to say out loud, “Emily Rebecca”.  And then, finally, the cry.  Her first cry.  Your first cry.  First of many and many and many and many cries.

And then this tiny ball of pink, gorgeous baby girl pink, was placed in my arms.  Finally.


Pregnancy is a funny thing.  It lasts 9 months.  The first 8 months take seconds to go by, the last month takes years.    Decades.   And then it all changes in a second.  And life has never been the same.  That drive home from the hospital, I sat in the backseat.  And then we came home and then what?  What do you do with a newborn when you get home?  (the first thing I did was change the sheets, since my water broke in bed!).

Emily, the past 4 years have been a whirlwind.  You were this tiny ball of screaming who would suddenly curl up in my arms and smell so perfect and take a nap.  And then you would spit up on me and we would start again.  Your colic, your reflux, your dairy intolerance, your refusal to sleep…  I did not think we would make it baby girl.  But somehow, we made it.

And look at you now!  You are the best!  I love our time together.  I love when we do puzzles, play games, read books, laugh, giggle, and plot.  I love love love love your laugh!  When you climb up on a chair trying to get the spray bottle to attack me.  And then you are laughing too hard to run and we collapse in a puddle of spray bottle and whatever dress up dress you are in and we all laugh together.  Until we are laughing too much to try to stand up!  I love playing dress up with you, and how much you love all dresses and all things girly.

I love cuddling in your bed or my bed to stories.  I love when you read to me!  I love the way you cuddle the babies and take care of them.  Your babies and our babies.  I love watching you feed your babies and I love when you help take care of our babies.

And I love your singing and dancing – even when I have no clue what you are singing…

You have so much love in your heart and I love watching you share it.  Like this morning at school.  One of the little boys in your class was crying and his mom was hugging him when we came in.  You went right up to him and hugged him and told him it was ok.  And I melted.   I still can’t get over it – that little ball of pink that they placed in my arms has become the worlds most gorgeous, most loving, funniest, little girl ever.  And I love you so much my baby girl, I am just not sure I am ready, 100% ready for you to become a 4 year old.  But at the same time, I can’t wait to see what happens next.


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