"You will always be my baby..."

It was a Thursday afternoon in 2006 when I started to notice tight knots in my belly. I had been out of school for two full weeks, and it was a good thing. I was huge. I couldn't even hoist myself up off the couch. It was hot. I was miserable. I was beyond ready for my baby to enter the world. I had been walking (more than I needed to be) trying to spur her. And finally those first little contractions started.

Being a little over an hour from the hospital, my doctor had told me to come in at the first signs of labor. She promised she wouldn't send me home, and gave me the indication she might induce if I was close enough. I'd been dilated for over a week, and at my appointment the day before I was already at a 2.

I made my way to the hospital, and by then I was contracting more. I wasn't in agony by any means, but I was in the first stages of labor. The nurse was afraid my water would break at any time. She said it was "tight as a drum," and I was 3cm. They called my doctor to see if she'd break my water.

It was her anniversary, so she said she'd do it first thing in the morning. They gave me a sedative so I could get some good sleep, and monitored me all night.

The next morning my doctor was in bright and early. She broke my water at 8am and started pitocin. I was 4cm by that time, so she was sure it wouldn't be long.

She was right.

I had to wait for the anesthesiologist to get out of surgery, and even though I had some iv meds that made me super loopy for a while, the pain was overriding the meds by noon. Finally he got me my epidural, and I turned on Days of Our Lives. Before I knew it, it was go time!

At 1:58 pm Chloe Mae was born. She was a whopper, weighing 8lbs 9oz and 21" long.

There were complications.

I held her only for a moment, then was wisked away to the OR. Losing consciuosness [and large amounts of blood] quickly, I directed the nurses not to let anyone hold her until I got back. I'd waited so long for her, and I was already protective and jealous. I couldn't stand the thought of anyone else touching her when I couldn't.

I made it back finally, and I didn't care about anything but getting a hold of that baby girl. Her skin was softer than anything I'd ever felt, and she smelled so sweet and good. Her eyes were big and bright, and she was the most alert newborn I've ever seen.

I let go of her to let my mom and brother hold her, but not for long. I couldn't put her down. She was my everything.

Her dad left that evening to go home and rest (because he had SUCH a hard day?) and it was extremely quiet. I felt sad when everyone left, and then I looked into her little crib and realized I wasn't alone. The love of my life was with me.

I put her in bed with me and did what I'd been dying to do all day. I unwrapped her, stripped her to her diaper, and examined every part of her. Her tiny toes. Her every wrinkle. I studied her. I photographed her. I held her. I fed her.

I realized as I was watching Roseanne on Nick at Night that I hadn't eaten all day. I buzzed the nurse, and she brought me some pop tarts and juice. We cuddled in to get some sleep and I looked her in the eye. "It's just you and me, baby girl," I said to her.

For the past five years, that has never changed. We've always had family and friends, don't get me wrong, but I've always felt like it was the two of us taking on the world together. We're more than a mom and her daughter. We're tied at our souls. I only hope it stays this way and our bond continues to grow and deepen.

I can't believe my little girl is five today. She's no longer a baby. Not a toddler. Not even a pre-schooler. She is a full-blown KID.

And what a beautiful, amazing girl she is growing into.

Here's a look at all *six* of her birthdays...



She's just moments old in this one. On June 2nd, 2006 at 1:58 pm my life changed forever...for the better!



When she turned one I stuck out my lip and told everyone she wasn't a baby anymore. Looking back, she was still SUCH a little baby!

I think two was my favorite age. It was far from terrible. Her voice was so cute, she was super chatty, but said so many funny little variations of words.

When she turned three she was all about the Disney Princesses, and nothing has changed there!

Her fourth birthday was her first one with the Mister. Another Ariel cake ;) This is when I really noticed she didn't have a baby face anymore.

Five years old now, but she'll always be my baby!

"I'll NEVER...."

I happened to be in town yesterday during Sonic's "happy hour," and couldn't pass up a Sonic Coke. Chloe and I pulled in and ordered our drinks. She decided she wanted mozzarella sticks (why don't they have half-price appetizers??), so we sat there so she could eat her food.

While we were sitting there chatting, an old lady pulled up beside us. She got out of her car and headed straight toward the bathroom entrance.

When she first exited her car, I wondered if she'd chosen Sonic as a place to stop, or if she was planning on getting food there but had to use the bathroom first. Was she a resident, or was she passing through? Was she going to meet someone, or coming from her Senior Aerobics class? Did she crave Sonic Cokes too? My mind is a crazy place ;)

Then as she walked toward the door, I began looking at her crushed velvet pant-suit thing and wondered to myself if that was "one of those things." You know, the things you swear when you're a teenager you'll NEVER do when you get old?

Things that, when you get older, you realize you maybe have no control over, you can learn to accept, or you just don't care about?

For example. In my teen years, I likely said the following things:

"I'll always wear sunscreen. I'm NOT going to be wrinkly or freckly."

"I'll make sure I NEVER get stretch-marks."

"I'll never dye my hair. I'm going to age gracefully."

"I would NEVER consider owning a mini-van!"

"I'll never lose my temper with MY kids."

"Gravity won't affect MY perky boobs!"

"I would NEVER poop in a public bathroom!"

"I'll NEVER let myself get THAT fat. Even if I have kids, I'll get my body RIGHT back."

As you have probably guessed, I found that as I aged my attitude changed a little. Some of the things were uncontrollable. Things that, despite my best efforts, happened anyway. Things I've had to learn to accept about myself and my body. Things I've realized that, though they might not be "cool," are practical. So, will a velvet pant-suit one day be the comfortable, practical solution for my retirement body? I kinda hope not.

But then something else happened.

As I was eyeing the pant-suit thing, the lady began to fuss with the door handle. You have to turn it up instead of down, and it took her a minute to figure it out. And just as she figured out which way to turn it, I saw it.


Drip.


               Drip.



                                          Flow.

Yep. She was peeing her pants. I was immediately grossed out.

But then I felt bad. Obviously she didn't *mean* to pee her pants. If she knew I saw her, I know she'd be mortified (and here I am, telling the whole world). It's probably one of those things that you don't understand until you get old and get plagued by it.

What saddened me is that I could see that being me.

"I'm NOT buying Depends. I will stop as often as I have to, but I am NOT buying Depends."

Heck even after having a kid I've noticed my bladder is weaker than it once was.

Will I be that lady one day? Running to use a public toilet (something I do only in DIRE emergencies, and even then I hover) and peeing right there on the Sonic sidewalk as teenagers and young people snicker and point?

I hope not.

But I guess that's another one of those things I better think about as a possibility rather than being "SO GLAD THAT WILL NEVER BE ME!"

'Cause it could be me.

It could be you.

You just never know what age will bring, unfortunately. And I don't quite like making the best of it sometimes.