Ever since I was little, I was mothering just about everything in sight: my dollies, my little brother … even our dog wasn’t immune to my maternal ways. (I’ve got a picture of our puppy hanging out in my baby carriage somewhere. Heh.)

As an adult, I found myself so focused on getting pregnant, I didn’t think about what it would mean—really mean—to be a mommy.

Sure, I knew the requirements on paper: give birth. hold cuddly baby. love them. raise them. send them out in the world. But the true job description didn’t sink in until I saw my son for the first time.

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Okay, so here we are, almost April, and I’m FINALLY updating this thing. Slacker? Maybe so. But hear me out.

Pregnancy was going really well for a good stretch of time. I woke up every morning holding my breath, waiting for something to go wrong, and I was always pleasantly surprised.

Until January, that is.

As soon as 2010 began, it was like a switch was flipped. I was having some major blood pressure issues. Eventually, I was admitted to the hospital for a bit, then put on super-strict bed rest. You’d think a person would love laying in bed all day, every day—in theory, it sounds FANTASTIC—but it sucked.

It was a snowy day in February when we were sent to the hospital to be induced (strangely enough, NOT related to my blood pressure woes). 16 hours of labor, and we ended up needing a c-section. I wouldn’t dialate past a 5, and poor baby wouldn’t fit.

Noah entered the world February 12, (weighing 5 pounds, 13 ounces) meeting a foot of snow on the ground. He’s my perfect little snow baby. Continue reading →