Away from my baby

I spent three full days and nights away from home this week. Away from my bed, my hubby, and away from my baby. Before this, the longest I'd ever been away from her was a long nap's worth of hours, it was a big kind of deal. Not a lot would compel me to separate from my little leach, but a very ill auntie in Texas was more than reason enough. The trip itself was a moment in life that will forever remain still in my mind without any over-explaining. Being away from my baby girl was simply an added emotional drain to the whole situation. Though I admit that I looked forward to a few full nights of uninterrupted, non-monitor droning sleep (especially since A has been up for the past two weeks straight!).
Even still, I did not cry for her. I could have and wanted to, but didn't. I know that my job as her mother is to equip her to leave me forever someday and a short weekend is simply that--a few days. I tried to down-play the drama of it all. But I still caught myself flipping through her pictures, pulling up her blog, and trying to feel her in my hands. . . that wriggly, heavy weight of her little body. I didn't want to sit around and drone on and on about my kid, but thought about her constantly. By my last day in Texas, I decided that I'd take the sleeplessness any day rather than be away from my baby. All I did from day 2 on was imagine getting off the escalator at the airport and catching her eye in time to see her do her excited happy-to-see-you dance and a tearful, joyous reunion that would make the whole lobby smile.
And then when I did get off the plane and ran (literally) down the terminal and onto the escalator, I scoured the faces below looking for the familiar faces of my heart and soul, they were nowhere to be found. NOWHERE. I looked all over and nothing. I pulled out my phone and called Justin, "WHERE are YOU?!" We talked until I saw them--sitting by the window in front of the escalators. . . the UP escalators. You know, on the opposite side of the down escalators, where people actually come DOWN. Okay, so it annoyed me. In any case, after all that, Amelia looked at me like, "oh you. hi." I scooped her up and carried her to the rest of our party where she squealed at my mom and continued to ignore me. I gave her hugs and kisses. I looked her over and checked her all out. Her head smelled different somehow, but she was otherwise the same. I asked her if she missed mama, to which she replied, "DADA" to the sound of my cracking heart.
Though it broke my spirit, I caught myself and remembered that this was a good thing, that Amelia and Daddy really needed this bonding time. Yet I confess that it made me cry a bit. I'm not made of stone, you know, and I'd missed her to the point of real, physical pain.

Since then though, a little miss somebody has been unusually attached to mommy. She's even upgraded her "mama" to "Moooooom." I think it's very possible that she missed me too. Very possible indeed.

She has not, however, gone back to sleeping all night.