You and your awesomeness.

You are 15 months old and so awesome. I know I'm partial, but you are really, really awesome.

You smile a lot. You laugh a lot. You are so friendly and so gentle. You want to be a good girl.

You've been gentle with Maxxis and Kenda from day one. Even the day Maxxis gave you a warning growl..you had just started walking and he wasn't sure of your new activity. You continuously pick up their bones and offer them with such persistence and ease.

When we walk into your daycare class, all of your 'older' buddies call out your name - Georgia! Georgia! They come running towards you - most with arms outstretched ready to hug you or offer you the toy they have.

When we leave daycare, you're excited to see mom, but you don't leave without blowing kisses to your teachers and friends. You typically give a 'pageant' wave and say "bye."

At home, with your baby, you kiss her over and over and over. I like to think it's because I kiss you over and over. I want to get all the kisses in that I can before you start pushing them away.

You ask for your milk, you say you want more, you try eating with a spoon, you explore and when amazed - give this incredibly priceless look of awe and amazement. It's absolutely my most favorite expression of yours. And you always look to me to see if  I too am amazed. I am.

You  make being your mom so insanely easy. You sleep 12 hours a night. You go to bed on your own. You hardly want me to rock you anymore, but I rock you ... for me. I hang out with you as long as  I can before I MUST put you down to sleep...for me.

You are my sunshine.
My Georgia sunshine.
You make me happy, when skies are gray.
You never know dear
how much I love you.
Please don't let your sunshine fade.

I love you sweet girl.

Mom

I don't mind...

I don't mind telling friends and coworkers, who need to know, that my husband is deployed. I just wish they knew the WHOLE story and that part, I know, is more exclusive.

What I wish everyone knew is we aren't the type of married couple who ENJOYS this break or worse yet NEEDS this break. Yes, absence makes the heart grow fonder, but my heart has been fond for your dad from day one.

When Bill and I started hanging out at friends - I knew there was something different. As a male friend of mine, I had never felt so confident, so witty, so sure of myself. I had not felt that around a guy EVER. And when we eventually started dating, he made me want to be a better person: Smarter, calmer, more worldly, confident ALL the time, and more.

And this Georgia, is "when I knew that I knew he was the one." If you have to ask or wonder how you know..then you don't know, my sweet peach. The feeling is electrifying. If needed, you'll defend it to your friends, your family (yes, me included perhaps) and you'll do so with such confidence and maturity that it will blow us all away...including you. You'll feel like you've never been so sure about anything in your life (keep in mind I was 27 dear one).

I ended up talking a lot about your dad this week. It just so happened whether it was a request to travel for work or just in casual conversation I must have said something that eluded to the fact he was not at home. I mention his name a lot in conversation - to you, friends, coworkers, family.

And I don't mind talking about your dad. Ever.

He's good at what he does. Good at being my husband. Good at being your dad. And good at what he does for his career and our country.

I don't mind - at all - spending this one year with you...just you and me. And consequently without your dad. Because it's to better our future. It's for your college, it's for our potentially growing family, it's for our future. YOUR future.

I don't mind in the big picture sense. I just miss him like crazy.

When you're 13.

When you're 13...I won't second guess having rocked you to sleep at night.

You will have told me you "hate me" by then and I will want to remember the following:

Your hair is fine, yet you seem to have a lot of it. It's blond - very blond, but your eyelashes are light brown with blond highlights. Your eyebrows are fairly light as well - leaving me perplexed, as we rock, whether your hair will look more like mine or your dads.

Some nights after a bath, we start our nighttime routine and your hair is damp. I wonder which way I'm supposed to part it - which way it wants to go - and hope I don't "ruin your 13-year-old self" with a calick you're bound to blame me for anyway. 

You're easy to settle as we rock. We read a book or two - most nights you turn the pages yourself - and then we "turn in" and rock you (sometimes me) to sleep.

Your head fits in the curve of my neck, your little arm around the other side.

At times when you've been more resistant to sleep...I get my nose picked, my cheeks squeezed, my eyes inspected, my lips motor-boated, and my mouth inspected. And as you do all of these things - I think yes, you could be trying harder to go to sleep, but I also think - every single thing you're touching and exploring is for the first time for you - brand new. How awesome is that? You have no idea it's 'inappropriate' to put your fingers in someone's nose and then especially when you immediately put it right in THEIR mouth! You have no idea, sweet cherub.

Your personality right now is beaming through! You are a pleaser - you want to be a good girl. You also LOVE to laugh, entertain, and explore.

I look forward to having the story of 1yr old to 13 years old to tell...which is why I wanted to capture it thus far.

You warm my heart and those of many others - with your "hey" and "ooh" and "dawg" - you'll have so many other crowd pleasing and personal accomplishments by the time you're 13.

I look SO forward to YOU rocking us sweet Georgia.

I love you sweet peach,
Mom

Daddy's letter to you from work:

written by: Bill Reeves July 22, 2013
 
662 Heartbreaks…for Georgia.

Its hard to leave home. To leave the 2 most precious people in my life. I’ve been spoiled to no end since I’ve returned from overseas, and yet now here I sit in another state going through the process of deploying along side our forces yet once again. But this time is so much different. I always had empathy for our forces that had to leave their children behind, but never really had that connection to just what it felt like.

Now I do.

I’ve been blessed to watch my wife grow into the loving, caring parent she was meant to be. She really is a strong women who was meant to do many great things…one of them is to be a mother to our beautiful Daughter. I would hope that as a father, I am half as good as she is as a mother…I try my best. I’ve watched her take great care of our little girl even before birth and even better care after birth now for a year. I’ve been so blessed to have the ability to be there every day until now.

It is true that the hardest thing I think I have ever done in my life was kissing you Georgia the morning I left out. You were sleeping soundly and safely and barely noticed my kiss upon your cheek. Holding you the night before when you went down, trying to read to you through my tears was difficult enough, but nothing compares to closing that the door to your room knowing that it would be at least 6 months before I looked upon you with my own eyes again.

I want you to know that your Daddy has a particular skill that makes him pretty good at this job. I want you to know that your Daddy will be safe and is surrounded by people he trusts while he is off in this far away place. I want you to know that there will not be one single day that I do not think of you and your mother, our family and friends. It is those memories that keep me going and allow me to do the best job I can. I want you to know that over there, we fight very mean people, that care nothing about your safety, your education, or what you want to be in life. That is why I’m there.

It is the way that I can contribute to our Country. To be beside our forces and work as one team, one fight, one family. I’ve met some really great people like Wendy, Vic, Joseph, Jay, Doug, Fincher, James, Jim, Eric, OB, Shershaw, Sahar, Honishka and the list goes on and on. These people DO care about your future, even though they have never met you.

So I go to this beautiful far away land knowing that not only do I serve my country, But I serve your future….and hat is how I will get through my day.

I miss you Georgia already and ever night when I go to bed in my bunk, my heart will break….because I missed kissing you good night. Every morning when I wake up, my heart will break….because our time together will not be. 662 times my heart will break. But every day is 1 one day closer to the end of that.

I will be “Daddy in the box” now for a while. Be good for your mother, sleep tight, and treat her well….and know that I cannot wait to hold you again in my own arms, to feel your kiss on my cheek, to feel your arms around my neck. That goes for your Mommy too.

I love you Georgia.

Daddy

One month and counting....down.

It's been one month since we decided your dad would take a job out of the country.

Don't get me wrong, sweet girl, I'm not rushing this next year - no way, no how - not rushing this sweet, precious time with you and all your astonishing milestones.

I am, however, selfishly rushing the time away that I am without your dad. He's the love of my life. He's why I have you. He's pretty awesome...as you know.

In this past month, you've come to love pasta, eat bananas from the peel, scrunch your nose, hug your baby, kiss your friends, say 'dog' (sounds more like 'daa'), and use your vocals. Man you love your vocals..your 'loud' vocals. And darling...I love that you love your vocals. I love nothing more than when you 'talk'. And you know what else? You walked...no assistance...freestyle steps...you walked this past month. August 7, 2013 to be exact.

And you walked while daddy and I both worked. You were with Mrs. Audrey, your teacher who loves you dearly, you walked. Took a few steps in class. And as luck would have it, Ms. Audrey was staying overnight with you at our house, because mommy had to work out of town, and she caught your steps on video. I got to see you walk...while I worked. Daddy got to see you walk...while he worked.

And when I picked you up the next day from baby school...you took 3 steps towards me. You did. You walked to me. You walked to dad too, I'm sure.

You are amazing, my sweet peach. So far you've made being your mom so easy and such a blessing. Your giggle makes my laughter double. Your comfort makes my confidence increase tremendously. Your chatter and smart girl moves make me know we're making the right decisions for you.

I'm here and I'm present - in front of you everyday. And I have no doubt your daddy is here too. I tell you daily he loves you. I send him updates on what you ate for breakfast and the faces you made while doing so. He gets videos. He gets kissed on Skype.

Your daddy has so much love for you that he was working...while you walked.

We love you sweet peach....and are doing this for you.  One month down and 11 to go. With you GA, mommy and daddy can do this.

I don't feel like writing...

I don't feel like writing.

I don't feel like sharing, yet I feel like sharing. I don't feel like wallowing, yet I feel like wallowing. I don't feel like exposing, yet I feel like exposing.

You see? I don't feel like writing. Yet I feel like writing.

I wish I could hug him. I wish I could wrap my arms around his neck. His embrace tells me EVERY TIME...that it is going to be alright. His warmth, his heart, his kiss reassures me every-single-time.

But here's where the I don't feel like writing comes in.

I can't wallow. I can't wish. I can't long for. I can't miss.

Cause I have Georgia. I have our gift. I have our blessing. I have our most recent joy.

There are all these topics to write about that come to mind during this time, but when I think about publishing - I think PETTY. I think selfish.

If this exercise is to teach me anything - it's to reinforce this most definitely isn't about me. And unlike last time, it isn't about Bill either. It's about Georgia.

It's the laughs and the giggles, the carrots in her hair, the expressions, the feeding the dogs when I tell her not to...that keep me focused. And it's the rocking her to sleep, with her head on my shoulder that reminds me...

I don't feel like writing right now.  Not right now.

I'll miss the dance...

As parents, we developed a dance.

It was smooth, intuitive mostly, stress reducing, and joy inducing.

He made no bones about it..I was in the lead and he followed. And as a proud mom who finally felt confident about my ability, I was happy to lead (most of the time) and tried hard to stay off his feet.  :)

We would move about the house as if we were reading each others mind. I change dirty diapers, he makes her laugh, I feed her, he comes over half way through to entertain and get her to eat the food she's refused for me. We're in the bath and he brings the cloths I forgot or the cup to rinse her hair. Not in an 'on call' way, but an available..dance partner kind of way.

He met me at my car, everyday like clock work, to help get her and her 'stuff' in the house, dancing around the dogs...who were excited to see mom and little sister.

He would have ended his work day, no matter what was left to be done, and scoop her up in his arms. Make her laugh and giggle like only daddy can - giving mom a minute to breathe. She barely knew I was around for those few minutes..and that was fine. I'm getting her dinner ready and she'd eventually clue in.

At bed time, he carried her up the stairs. I read the books and laid her down to sleep. However, numerous nights my touch and time wasn't enough and as soon as we'd tag each other out/in, he'd rock and soothe and come down with a look of success. And I'm not too proud to admit, he brought that dance home several times!

He knows when I'm stressed, over-analyzing, tired, burnt out, under-achieving, ecstatic, adamant, passionate and more. He has this crazy ability to make me laugh when I don't think I want to, to make me see the calm when I'm ready to fight, supports me when I don't think I'm worthy, builds me up when I feel like crumbling.

He's my best friend and favorite dance partner. Neither of us are perfect and so we just give it our best shot.

I'm not saying poor me. I know a lot of mothers have it a lot more intense than what I'm about to experience. For me it's the adjustment from an award-winning duet to a solo act. And I've been known to be a showstopper :) so I know I have it in me.

However, for the next 51 weeks I'll miss my love, my partner and best friend. I'll miss our dance.

I love you darling,
Brandi

  

It's not a dress rehearsal.

Why do we wait?

I can't be the only one.

"Life is too short" - you hear it all the time, but we don't really live that way - do we? I don't.

We wait until we move into that house we've always wanted, to get ourselves organized or exercise a creative idea for decorating. We say the dogs will be so much better behaved when we have the 6ft fence so they can properly exercise themselves...often. We wait to focus on getting ourselves back into shape until the stress of everyday life subsides; until we figure out the routine. There's things we want to do more of, more often, more generously, but we say now isn't the time because of X, I'll think about it some more and give back soon. We want to get into the habit of church so that we practice the faith everyday, but with a young child it's hard to predict how Sunday mornings will go.

And oh yeah, the "we"...is me of course.

Until this weekend.

My heart and my mind are heavy with thoughts and condolensces for a guy we all grew up with. He took his family out on the boat Saturday - pregnant wife, 3-year old boy, and wife's brother. They all went out together. Yet only he came home. A terribly tragic boating accident took his family - just like that. His pregnant wife and son are dead and brother-in-law is significantly injured.

He woke up that day not knowing the afternoon would be any different from the morning.

I've said to numerous people in my life RECENTLY "This is not a dress rehearsal...we get one go at this life." And quite frankly, I haven't been living like it. It's much easier to say those words than to do.

However, after being consumed by these saddening thoughts, breath-taking actually, I am committing to DO something about whatever I'm thinking about. Whether it's a conversation I need to have, a dream I want to follow, a something new I want to try....life IS too short. We are not guaranteed tomorrow. Cliche and true.

When Bill was in Afghanistan, it was inevitable to not think about what life would possibly look like if he didn't come back. And more recently, after Georgia, we were considering a stint in which I was forced again to think about what our life would look like if for some forsaken reason he didn't come home...just how would our life look then. Thankfully, he didn't go so I didn't have to think about it for very long.

Unfortunately, our friend isn't thinking about it. He's now living it. And I have prayed over and over that God will wrap him and their families in His arms and just hold them. Hold them tight.

This is not a dress rehearsal folks. We've got this one life. So let's live it. And live it GOOD.

Dear Mom...

Mom,
I thought after becoming a mom, I would know the perfect gift to get you for Mother's Day. The reality: I still have no idea what you want for Mother's Day. Because if you're anything like me, as a mom, you want the focus to be anywhere BUT on you. :) And something tells me we might have a thing or two in common.

But what I do know is this. And it's something I DIDN'T know until I became a mom.

You've lost sleep over me. You've stayed awake wondering where I am and what I'm doing. You've asked yourself if you're doing the right thing over and over again. You've felt immeasurable pain when, as a teenager,  I said I hated you. You felt pushed far far away when I didn't ask you to come backstage at dance competitions, but instead acted like I knew exactly what to do by myself.

You want to give me advice and influence my actions because you don't want me to have to go through the heartache, the struggle, the stress, and/or the pain you ever experienced. And the reason being because the amount of love you have in your heart for me is unmatched. My pain is your pain.

You wonder if you provided for me enough, educated me enough, exposed me to enough. What if you would've done something different - what if we hadn't moved - what if dad didn't work in a profession that meant he wasn't at home sometimes.

Something I know for sure is that I can never thank you enough for this and more. You've made me who I am and provided for me a wonderful life. We're friends - you and me. We may not always agree or be on the same wave length, but I've always been proud that you're my mom and grateful that you're my friend.

I love you mom.

I know I still don't know the half of the sacrifices, interrupted work days, and sleepness nights, but I know...as a mom myself now...that you wouldn't have had it any other way. What gift do you give as a thank you for such selflessness?

Eternal gratitude and 'job well done'  are all I can come up with.

Going through the pictures...

I'm a Facebook addict. It's true. I love being able to connect with someone, show that I relate to someone, and be witty with someone in an instant. I try to deny the addiction and in fact recently have said I would let it go. And then...I found the historical reference it holds. I dare say I'm hooked a little longer.

I just discovered...I joined in 2006. I was writing my posts in the 3rd person. "hopes her weekend will rock..." etc.And wasn't writing that much at all. Of course in 2008, I had gotten the hang of how to post and more importantly it records the year I got married to the love of my life. And then in 2009...when he left for Afghanistan.

I look back at the pictures during that 13.5 months that turned into 18. I read my captions attached to pictures of the dogs and it takes me back....like it was yesterday. The truth is - I had crazy strength and maturity to get through that time. And the pictures remind me of everything and everyone else that helped. In fact - shaped the experience.

First and foremost, the pups. They were my babies. I could focus all my energy on taking care of them and at the same time accepting their unconditional love. My friends invited me to Key West and we soon became even better girlfriends. I cut my hair. I.Cut.My.Hair....and I cut it SHORT! I gained weight and lost weight. I worked at a sinking company and got saved by the acquiring company. I stayed active in the Junior League, and met my dear friend Jessica Kendall. I had girlfriends like Laura, Kristen, and Bethany visit and even mom and dad came. We had a pool in our backyard..relaxing in the evening was a no-brainer with that as our backdrop.

Tampa holds such a special place in my heart. I grew up and grew on in Tampa. My rocks Tracy, Matt, Liz and Lindsay made it all possible day-to-day.

I love pictures. I love them the same as I love music. They take you back and allow you to step out of your current day to day and remember what got you here.

It's a host of emotions and every single one..I like walking through.

Would you really want to know?

I hesitated to write about this mainly because I wouldn't want anyone to worry. And then I decided: it's something any other woman could be faced with at/around my age. And as for sweet Georgia, my health history becomes hers and that's another reason to record this here.

This last doctor's appointment, I asked about mammograms and when I should start having them (great marketing piece in the lobby - or else I honestly wouldn't have thought about it since I'm still 18 in my mind). She spoke as if no sense of real urgency - just when I turn 35. I said - so within the next year? She thought about my chart and with an 'ah-ha' look on her face said..well, yea..in the next year unless you have a history of breast cancer in your family. I said well both grandmothers have had it.

She then got a bit more inquisitive and asked at what age. I thought hard and couldn't remember, but knew I could ask my mom immediately after the appointment. She shared with me a new test they can perform - a gene test. They take bloodwork to see if you carry the gene to make you more likely to have breast or ovarian cancer. We very casually discussed how I should get tested next time I come in - just to know. Of course I agreed - why not? Of course I'd want to know.

It's been a week since the blood was drawn and sent off. I'm not sure I want to know.

I was hit this weekend with a pretty definitive thought...that makes me think I don't want to know.

I asked my doctor what do women do who find out they are positive for the gene? She told me of two scenarios. One woman who's mother, sisters, grandmothers, etc. had breast cancer and some didn't survive, had a double mastectomy and hysterectomy....at 34 years old. I'm 34 years old. Another woman whose grandmothers had breast cancer - the doctor decided it best that she be examined each year more closely - MRI along with mammogram and ultrasound for ovaries. This second scenerio, since it's closest to mine, made me feel somewhat more comfortable.

Until a week later.

I'm not sure I'm capable of handling the information that I have a higher probability of fighting cancer than the general population. If I don't know, then I continue to do the yearly exams like normal and face the same wonder/worry that each and every person faces. If I do find out, and let's say - am positive - I face each exam with the more intense worry of 'is this the year?' If it's positive - would I live life more fully? I like to think I live life to it's capacity now. If it's positive - would I rush the second child before being faced with the potential of treatments and surgeries? Would I try to consciously intervene in a plan that I haven't made? Only He has made. But how would I resist myself?

If I don't find out and know my blood has been sent off for the test...I might always wonder. If/when it comes back negative and I agree to hear the news..I'll feel a sense of relief. The back and forth of finding out or not finding out feels urgent. I'm sure the processing of blood work is imminent.

So I ask...would YOU really want to know? Would you want to know if you carried the gene?

Dance it out!

Wow...little did I know I'd revisit 10 years of my life in 2 hours of dance competition this morning!

I had the awesome opportunity to go see my dear friend Kristen's oldest daughter Taylor, 6 yrs old, compete in one of MANY of her dance competitions. I sat in the audience eagerly awaiting her appearance and cheering her on the whole way. She's a great dancer with a vibrant presence. I can't wait to see where she takes it next.

As I'm watching the dances in between her performances, I remember what it felt like. I remember what frame of mind I was in. I remember the nerves, the excitement, the 'elite' feeling, and the desire to want to do my very best.  I also remember wanting to be with my dance friends, do what they were doing, in an independent yet want to be included sort of way.

I can remember rehearsing my routines in the grocery store aisles. Mom really liked that. :) I can remember rehearsing them in the passenger seat of the car with just head moves and random arm movements. I'm sure that was enjoyable for everyone else too. Yet when you're waiting in the curtain, stage left, you all of a sudden feel like you have to pee AND that you've forgotten the entire routine. No seriously - forgotten the entire routine. You quickly talk to your dance friends and are reminded...you haven't forgotten. They're still there. It will be fine.

On stage, it's all about stage presence: pointed toes, relaxed hands, and precise moves. Today's performances were full of talent. Admittedly, I recognized "flexed feet," "bent extensions," and "tense hands" only because those comments were SURE to be on my score card - at some point - I know it for fact.

And when the 8 year old lyrical dancers were dancing with such emotion in their face and depth in their movements..I seriously thought I would cry. I'm at a dance competition of 6-8 year olds and I want to CRY?! What is WRONG with me?!

I just felt like I was 8 again..in an instant. And as I drove home and throughout the afternoon, I had reached 18. And then it was time...18. I had to move on from something I knew well and felt I was relatively good at. I considered a career in it, but wasn't willing to make the sacrifice. I had to leave a group I'd become a part of. I had to say good bye to a mentor and teacher I loved at my core. It was time to go to college.

There is no doubt about it - dance - is what shaped me. It's why I stand tall, shoulders back (as best I can), and abs in. It's why I love "performing" - public speaking, theater, making friends laugh. It's why I like good music - there's always a reason to 'dance it out.'

Thank you to my mom and dad who sacrificed more than I'll ever know to allow me to dance. Thank you to Jason too for being an awesome big brother through it all.

Love to dance. L.O.V.E. dance.

Our first fever

The irony of the day warned me. I just didn't know it until the day was almost done.

When I dropped Georgia off this morning she gave her normal anxious grunts to get out of the carseat as she eagerly awaits the view of the hallway at baby school. She smiled at the passerbys and 'waved' to her teachers when we walked in. Everything normal. As I'm leaving, she pulls a yellow ball to her open mouth. I comment how it 'matches her shirt' and think to myself 'no wonder they pass viruses so quickly.' Warning #1.

Warning #2. My coworker and friend who is pregnant and touring the pediatrician's office tonight says to me 'my one burning question is what do you do with a fever? How will I know when to take her in?' I smiled and comforted her questioning. However, I had to tell her - I don't know the answer either because 'Georgia has NEVER had a fever.' I told her I would not hesitate to call the doctor and speak to a nurse about what to do. Viola. Jinxed myself there.

An hour later - the call from baby school came. "Georgia has a fever of 101.3 and has been sleeping a lot." I stumble through the conversation, nervous all of a sudden, and say I'll call the doctor and be there shortly. Nervous and anxious to 'mom' her at the same time. Feeling confident in my ability.

Before leaving, I actually had to laugh at the irony and the signs along the way that this was coming. I did exactly what I thought I'd do and called to speak to a nurse. Annette was great. She spoke her advice to me as if she knew I was writing it down and was patient when I needed to repeat it to her to make sure I heard her correctly and understood.

I got GA home and she was just lethargic and glassy eyed. Once we got her in PJs, she just wanted to lay down. Although she was peaceful, I felt that feeling for the first time that I wished I could take the ick feeling away from her. I wished I could do more.

She took a good nap, got up to visit with Daddy, ate a good dinner (great news), and has now gone down for the night. Dr. just said to watch the fever and keep it managed.

She seems to be sleeping peacefully and for that and more we are grateful.

I CAN'T take it...

I CAN'T take it.

I think I may need meds.

And I'm only 8 months in.

Is this feeling here to stay?

When I see the sad story of the baby fighting for his life or worse..the one who didn't make it...my heart and stomach ache with such intensity - like never before. I just can't take it. I try to explain it to Bill, and as wonderful as he is, we've categorized it as "my heightened level of empathy..now that I'm a mom."

But seriously?! When does this let up? I'm afraid the answer is never.

It's on Facebook - the stories with a catrillion thousand likes and comments. It's in the news - the 14 year old that got hit at her bus stop. A friend of a friend whose child's friend went missing. It doesn't matter that I don't know them - it's like I do - because it could be ... my Georgia.

I don't want to live life in fear and I certainly don't want to helicopter her out of fear. I truly don't feel fearful. But the intensity of the empathy I feel for other parents is sometimes overwhelming. I can't imagine if it was...my Georgia. I can't imagine..if it was our child.

Bill and I are so blessed and so thankful. We were gifted, by the grace of God, with an easy, healthy baby. After the exhaustion of the first few months wore off, I spent the next few months nervous. Just nervous that her health and her easy going ways were too good to be true. I wondered when it would turn around. And here we are..trucking right along...and all is well - no turning around. Everything is good. Everything is great.

I guess it's what being a mom is all about. I just hope my heart is up for it. And little does Georgia know the agonizing I'll do. She'll wonder why we don't let her go to Cancun for spring break or why we insist she wear a helmet snow skiing. She'll wonder why we make her take self defense class or learn how to run.

I've been given this gift and I'm aware others are in waiting. Or worse, in mourning. I'm not taking this task lightly. Not for a second. I think about being her mom every minute of every hour of every day.

We love you sweet peach.

Mom

I hope she'll feel whole...

As Easter approaches, the innocent question was posed to me with a smile from ear to ear: Do you have a basket and a dress for Georgia?

Insert large gulp.

No. I don't have a $65 floral, poofy and/or  monogrammed dress for her. (Quick disclaimer: to those of you who do - I LOVE the pictures and your child is darlin. Really.) Nor a basket - she'll probably have an opinion on one next year.

The problem is: I'm cheap.

Let me go back to when the ultrasound tech said "It's a GIIIRL!" Keep in mind, a psychic had told me I was having a boy AND my hips didn't seem to be growing THAT wide so I thought FOR SURE I was having a boy. And for that boy I would only have to clothe him in shirt and pants and that was that. But when she said GIRL...I needed time. Time to process the bows, tights, patten leather shoes, tutus, magic wands, etc. that I'd have to buy just BECAUSE she was a girl.

I've sent her to baby school twice in a headband/bow. Once was because of pictures and the second was because...well, I hadn't done it in awhile (4 months to be exact). She has such fine hair and so little of it...I don't want the headband to wear a groove or displace what little hair she has. Silly I'm sure. I just hope she doesn't shoot me for the baby pictures she'll see...shirt and pants (mostly)...minus the accessories. I hope she feels whole in the absence of baby hair bows, head bands, and tutus. I hope she feels whole. :)

When she looks back at the holidays, she won't see a red velvet dress atop Santa's lap. Instead she'll see the 'spur of the moment' outfit we purchased because she blew out the first one, but that's another story (and the first one still wasn't the red velvet dress with the black tie around the waste).

And here we are at Easter and we're seeing my grandmother for lunch. Georgia - you'll probably be wearing your spring-iest top with bright yellow pants because that's what you're comfortable in and you've got mileage on that outfit. I hope you won't hate me for the one-time dresses I'm not willing to buy. They're cute. And for the record, your dad would buy them for you ...and the occasion...any day. 

I just hope you'll feel whole :) when you look back without the foof and sateen.

Where do I start....

If I heard it once I heard it a gazillion times while pregnant - 'as soon as you meet her you will feel a love like no other. You'll be willing to step in front of a bus for her. It's amazing...so fulfilling.'

Well it didn't happen quite like that for me. I loved her, without question, yes! But quite honestly, my first thought upon seeing her was "she has light hair?" I then spent the next few days figuring out how to hold her while trying to nurse her while trying to get some sleep while trying to ask as many questions as I could think of while in the captive audience of numerous doctors. I felt more like I'd been HIT by a bus rather than my willingness to stand in FRONT of a bus for her.

Until the 6 week mark. At six weeks, we got a smile and almost immediately I was ready to stand in front of a bus. Take a bullet. The bond just grew and grew...I knew more about what she liked. I could soothe her like no other. And she was so dang cute - I was HONORED to be her mom. I was PROUD to call her my "daughter" and to be asked about my "daughter." It started to feel more REAL and less surreal that I was actually her mom. I actually got to keep her and she was stuck with me :)

Looking back, the weeks have turned into months. I can't believe she's 8 months old this week. And this blog has been burning in my soul for weeks now. I labored over its name. I thought 'too UNoriginal' and what if Willie Nelson comes after me? But truth is..I plan on writing this for me and for Georgia. And the title is PERFECT for where I'm at right now...Georgia is ALWAYS on my mind.

To my sweet Georgia Peach - I love thinking about you. I love talking about you. I love dreaming up things to do with you. I love deciding on things you'll NEVER do, things you MIGHT do, and things I WANT you to do (guilty as charged). I love thinking about your welfare - am I being a good mom, am I providing you enough, am I expanding your horizons enough, am I keeping you on track with your development enough? Am I being MOM enough? I think it's a constant question we'll ask ourselves and I hope .. in the long run...you say 'yes, mom'.

It's funny - being a mom. I've never felt more unsure and confident at the same time. I doubt myself, in this new mother role, a million times over and at the same time I think I'm rocking this being a mom thing. I think the struggle is because...in the long run...I hope you'll agree with the latter.

Georgia - my mom is one of my best friends. I can't thank her enough for WHY I am who I am and WHY I am where I am and WHY I want as much out of life as I do. She's the one I always want in my corner and also on the sidelines when we're just hanging out. I know our relationship wasn't always smooth sailing and I know you and I will go through those times too. I just hope we end up good friends.

I enjoy being a mom. I enjoy being one parent and a partner to Bill in this journey. We have laughed a lot thus far. We smile often. We count our blessings even more. Thank you Georgia for being our unimaginable. We'd step in front of a bus any day.