Waiting

So, I did it. I succumbed to the motherly instinct, and even though I know it's silly, I did it. I entered my Aviecakes into a beautiful baby contest hosted by my ol' small-town newspaper.

I'm not entirely certain of the prize--I think it's like $50 in gift certificates for local businesses--but it's not about that. It's about my gorgeous little baby girl and how her smile actually makes tears spring to my eyes. She is so beautiful and delicious and just pure bliss that I can't fathom someone saying: ''Cute? Yeah, I guess she's alright.'' C'mon! She's damn near perfect.


I know, I know, I'm biased. But aren't we all?

So, let's have a panel of editors and journalists decide for us. My baby against the 90 other children entered into the contest! (One of whom is my youngest nephew, Big LG. And his face is as delicious as Avie's, but in a toothy-grinned, Dave Letterman-esque little boy way. I won't begrudge him winning as the photo is fantastic. Kudos, Jax.)

In the meantime, I cross my fingers and wait excitedly for the results. Yes, it's a little sad that waiting for the Beautiful Baby results (Wednesday, folks--I've got to wait until Wednesday to see if her photo will be in the paper!) has me all-a-twitter, but I suppose, it beats the alternative.

I'm also waiting for the results from Brooke's CT scan and MRI. I expect good news (as she seems to be perfectly fine, head injuries aside, of course), but I am also on edge. I worry. I don't know if it is needlessly or not, but I can't seem to shake it. I feel like I've just swallowed a ball of air as I do when I have the hiccups, and that ball is just sitting there in the middle of my chest, not dispersing as it should.

And, naturally, the scans were performed on a Friday, which means we'll only hear from the doctors likely on Tuesday or Wednesday. That means I've got two or three more days to go.

I'm not certain if this worrisome feeling is entirely CT scan-related or if it is because Avie's new milestones (crawling, sitting up on her own, eating big people food, and 'Mama-ing' all over the place) is a constant reminder that the clock is ticking and the calendar pages are flying past. Maternity leave is up in just three short months.

I've got all the logistics of daycare and school registration and work routines to sort out before I return to the office (and anyone who knows me knows these sorts of things stress me out), when all I really want to do is shout 'Do over! Do over!'

It wasn't the leave I had imagined in my head and heart. It was beautiful and wild and every bit an adventure, but it wasn't restful. It wasn't peaceful. It wasn't the year full of tea parties, park picnics, and kinder-playgroups that I had hoped it to be. Don't know why I ever convinced myself that I was going to be on a 'vacation' of a sorts for a year, because I'm sure my maternity leave would have been every bit as chaotic even if B hadn't been diagnosed with Wilms!

Anyways, that puts me back to waiting. Waiting, waiting, waiting.... Rest assured that I'll have news for you this week. Keep your fingers (and your toes, knees and arms) crossed for an ALL CLEAR! on the CT front. A photo of my precious babe in the newspaper would be great, too! ;)