True Story

 

Anyone who was around me after Annie was born witnessed my "new Mom out-of-it" zombie-like state. I think it's safe to say, I was like that for a good six months. I remember being thrilled when I actually got to shower and thinking the only occasion for which blowing my hair dry would ever be worthy again was to attend the Oscars. I wore mis-matched flip flops in public and was a general mess.

 

And I didn't care.

 

Not in a "give up on life" kind of not caring, but in a "survival mode, do what is important and the rest will have to wait" level of not caring. I just cared about our baby and feeding her and being with Rick and maybe getting some sleep in here or there. I vividly remember eating cold lasagna (made by our neighbors) straight out of the fridge with my hands because ain't nobody got time for a plate or a fork!

 

But then things got better, as someone told me they would, and eventually I was showering fairly regularly and even BLOWING MY HAIR DRY, even though I had not yet received my invite to the Oscars. And then I started even having time to search the internet again (a task I had completely thought was in my past life, along with reading US Weekly and drinking coffee that was actually hot). And I saw all these cute crafts that people had done with their ultrasounds and hospital bracelets and I thought "I should do something like that!".

 

So I went to where I thought I had put all things special and important and the ultrasounds and bracelets weren't there. And then I realized I didn't even remember taking off those bracelets, so how could they be in Annie's special box???? And then I starting tearing apart the house and storage bins, frantically searching for these hospital bracelets because, dear God, what kind of mother would throw out her hospital bracelets and if I did, surely I should anticipate a visit from Child Protective Services because there was no way I was fit to be a mother.

 

And maybe I wasn't completely out of the woods on the sleep deprived new Mom thing either.

 

But just when I was about to slap on the cuffs and call CPS to turn myself in, I looked up on the wall in Annie's room.



 

Quite literally, staring me in the face.

 

 

Rick. My sweet Rick.

 

Thank you for knowing what is special and important and for keeping it safe and knowing exactly what I need, even when I don't (at the time). I don't know what I would do without you.

 

Happy Anniversary.