I know I’ve been a little quiet.
Please excuse my absence.
You see, I was celebrating Yom Kippur.
I was mourning the end of my maternity leave.
I was going back to work.
But, it’s all good.
And I will share more about it.
But, I have a baby to squeeze.
I missed out on, approximately, 2,398 kisses today,
and I must make up for that.
However, something just crept up on us;
something that couldn’t go unnoticed.
My husband is cleaning out his drawer, at the moment (yes, right at this very moment. I’m writing in real time!),
and nudged me, as he handed me a crumpled, red piece of construction paper.
On the cover, it read, “Congrats, Daddy!” with pictures of hearts and butterflies drawn, hovering around the words.
It was the card that I gave to him,
the day that I found out, really found out,
that we were having a baby.
The inside of the card reads,
“Dearest Love,
Just today we found out that a miracle has happened–
we are having a baby!
We are so over the moon (insert drawings of moon and stars)
and are thrilled.
Always remember the joy we feel today.
I can’t wait to see you hold our baby for the very first time!
Love,
Mommy”

That was the very first time that I referred to myself as mommy.
and although I’ve said it a jillion times since,
it still takes my breath away.
Looking at her right now—
breathless.
Seeing her, this afternoon, as I returned home from my first day of work, as she kicked her legs and squealed with glee—
breathless.
Knowing that I really am the title that I gave myself, way back when I wrote this card–
breathless.
Mommy.
Breathless.
I’d write more,
but at the moment,
I can’t breathe.
In a good way,
of course.