I remember I used to roll my eyes at emotional parents a little bit. Their gushy mushiness about their children growing up too fast. Ya ya ya, we get it. I thought it was overplayed and over dramatic.

But oh my goodness…do babies ever change everything.

Never have I questioned the meaning of life (you know, just those little pesky questions) or the finality of time as much as I have since I had Finn.

The day we left the hospital, as my strong, confident husband carried that little carseat with that teeny little bundle out of the Mother/Babe unit, down the stairs and outside, and as we passed each threshold, I walked slowly behind him, taking pictures and crying a little bit. She was growing up way too quickly. I wasn’t ready for this moment. (For those of you wondering, she was a very matured 2 days old). I was also panicking “WHY ISN”T THERE A TUNNEL FROM THE DOORS OF THE HOSPITAL TO THE CAR?! IT”S COLD OUT HERE!” Are we sure we can take her outside? I think it’s like..3 degrees out (and all the people not living on the West Coast just rolled their eyes).  I wasn’t ready for her to be in the big world. We climbed into the car and I sat in the front…then got out so I could sit in the back to make sure she was ok the whole way home on that incredibly bumpy ride (We live 8 minutes away, on paved roads I might add). Who had i become?

An overwrought, ridiculously sentimental mother, that’s who





(Seriously, such a wreck when I took this photo, but I didn’t want to miss one second of her life )


My sweet babe has had a cold all week and has been rather fussy in the night, stirring but not actually waking up. Every time she coughs and fusses, I wake up and lean over her cradle to check her. “Are her eyes open? Is she actually awake? No, oh okay, zzzz”. I know the time is rapidly approaching that she is outgrowing her gorgeous cradle in our room and will soon need to move to her crib in her room whether I like it or not or take up the art of weirdo baby binding (that’s not a real thing, just an FYI) (I hope). So I thought last night might be the night it was time to make the switch because no one was getting any sleep with all the “sleep coughing”. Jordan agreed and put her down in her room and came back in and climbed into bed….and guess what I did?

I lay there with my eyes open, secretly willing her to wake up so I could bring her back into our room to cuddle.

What on EARTH is happening? Who am I?! Who WANTS their baby to wake up? What kind of sicko am I?

A clingy, emotional mom weirdo, that’s who.


I sat on the couch for far too long when she was sick because she never falls asleep on me anymore and I just wanted to soak it in.

I suppose there’s an exaggerated emotion with babies because they’re growing at such a rapid rate, things that fit two weeks ago no longer fit her now. I see younger babies than her and it’s a bittersweet jab knowing she’ll never be that small again, she’ll never have little froggy newborn legs all cuddled up on my chest. At this point, it looks like she’s actually eaten smaller babies because she’s so much larger eh hem, wider, than babies that are only months younger than her. True, it is thrilling that she’s growing and thriving and learning new things every day, yes. But is there a sting of finality that time will continue to march forward, unrelenting, unforgiving. There’s no re-dos or rewinds to capture a moment that you missed (hello first time parent talking here, clearly the next babies will have far less photos of them sleeping, eating, moving, staring, drooling etc). I am afraid of not remembering every moment forever. So I frantically take more pictures.

What do you mean we need another picture of her sitting in her high chair finger painting in her yams? Who have I become?

A ridiculously sentimental mom, that’s who.

It’s a strange bittersweet moment when Finn cries and I scoop her up and walk around the room with her to sooth her tears and replace them with smiles and babble. There’s a pang of not too distant reality that there will be a day I won’t be able to wipe away her tears so easily; there will be the realities of the playground, of growing up, of broken hearts, of disappointments and pains beyond these little problem years. Of hard decisions, of wrong choices and I won’t be able to wrap her in a blanket and snuggle them all away. Why am I grieving things that haven’t happened yet? Get over it. That’s life, it happens to all of us. Who am I?

An emotional mama bear, that’s who.

With every development there is a cheer and an oooooh and an awwww “Babe! Did you see the way she reached out and grabbed that spoon all in one movement and fed herself?! Isn’t that AMAZING!?” “Jord, did you see how she can *almost* roll all the way over now?” “Isn’t it great how she can sit up on her own and pull toys out of a basket? She’s doing so well at playing by herself!”  Remember when you once snickered at that woman on Facebook for posting that her baby was tracking a toy with her eyes ahead of the development chart? You might not of posted it on Facebook, but let’s be honest, you were just as delighted when Finn did it. Who am I? What have I become?

A humble-pie-eating mom, that’s who.