A year ago today I woke up in a bad mood. It was another Monday morning, the start of a new work week, and I was headed back to the office instead of holding a new baby in my arms. I was 10 months pregnant and 8 days overdue. I dreaded the comments I’d receive back at the office, I dreaded the discomfort of sitting at my desk all day, but I didn’t want to take off any work before the baby came so I could use it all after she arrived.
I took a shower. I brushed my teeth. I stood in front of the mirror next to my husband, admiring my huge belly and wishing today would be the day. And then my water broke.
I gasped and stepped back off of the bath mat onto the bathroom tile.
“Is it your water? IS IT YOUR WATER?” Michael shouted.
“I’ll get the bad towels!”
I stepped into the garden tub while he ran for the ‘bad towels.’ I stood there and knew that my baby was coming. I couldn't stop smiling. Pretty soon my funny husband was steam mopping the bathroom (this will likely be one of my favorite memories of this day) while I laid down on the bed and marveled.
This morning, a year later, I woke up to the sound of baby babbles through the monitor next to my bed. It was a couple of minutes before my alarm clock was set to go off. I crept into her room and found her laying leisurely against the bars of her crib. When she saw me, she hurried to stand up in her crib to get a morning hug. I carried her into my bed to nurse, then brought her into the shower with me.
This morning she puttered around that same bathroom where it all began, holding a little bottle of lotion and walking back and forth. She likes to hold onto the edge of the empty garden tub and throw things into it. This morning I looked at that tub and couldn't stop smiling.