There’s a moment, late in the evening every Wednesday, when I regret that my daughter will be spending all of the next day with her grandparents.
There are many other moments throughout the rest of the week where I find myself doing the opposite, and I’m counting down the minutes to some baby-free time on Thursday.
But my daughter has become so much a part of my everyday, and of me, that I oftentimes feel incomplete when we’re not together. She may now be physically outside of my body, but a part of her will always be in me. And then on those Wednesday nights when I see her fuzzy blonde head on the monitor, moving around the crib as she dreams, and hear her sleepily call out my name, that’s when the moment happens – in an instant I’ve forgotten about every other moment but this one and I want nothing more than another day to snuggle her, play with her, and have her drag me around the house endlessly and interrupt me peeing as much as she wants. In that moment my heart swells to where I actually feel it push against the inside of my chest, unable to contain the love I have for this little girl.
Thursday comes, as it always does, and it truly is the deep breath I need to regroup and be my best the rest of the week. Until Wednesday night, when I can get my moment again.