Moving (forward)

I remember taking them out of the dryer (I was diligently washing them, even though I was certain Bella would never have feet that small) and they flew about as I unloaded the clothes. Socks so tiny they dotted my laundry basket like pastel confetti. And indeed, that's about the only purpose they served.

It's so hard for me to take out her old clothes and stash them away. First I move them to another drawer. Out of sight, out of mind, but not gone. And finally, with the change of the seasons, I feel required to empty that drawer and make room for warmer, roomier clothes. Each piece I weed out needs a little goodbye. Perhaps just a glance, or perhaps something more. I brought her home in this shirt. She was three hours old and squinting into our faces.

I don't mind the changing of the guards with my own seasonal clothes. I know I'll see them again soon enough. But that cute summer dress that still fits her, she has nowhere to wear it and next year it will look like doll clothes. There's something final about emptying out the baby's dresser to make room for the new. It's just like a baby to be always moving forward.

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Today marks the day one year ago that Dave and I woke up, packed our Halloween costumes from the night before, packed up our bunny, packed up our car, and said goodbye to the apartment from hell in torrential rain that had not let up since the drought broke three days before.

Not quite five months pregnant, I had finally revealed my secret to a select few at the party the night before. I was still harboring the idea that maybe I would have a boy, still dreading that it might be a girl, since what in the world would I do with a girl. I wasn't sick every minute of every day anymore (just every other minute), and was looking forward to showing Dave this country and why I love to drive right smack through the middle. I couldn't wait to show him the mountains, precarious switchbacks taking us up and over the Rockies. I wished we could have spent longer, seen more, but we only had a week, and the car was uncomfortably full.

Amazing how far we can travel in a year. Since then I have fallen in love with the girl in my belly, brought her into the world, and fallen in love with her again. Dave has become an amazing father, a sweet and generous husband, and a delicious bread maker. My love and appreciation for him has only deepened. I knew what I was getting into, bringing Bella into our family, and was not shell shocked by the crying, the sleepless nights, the needing and needing. Tired and overwhelmed yes, surprised, no. I had an inkling of the love that would fill me as I emptied my self onto my daughter, but the reality has been a million times better.

Sometimes it seems stupid, having moved out here, away from the east coast. I had all my arguments lined up to justify it to the world, but inside I'm prone to misgivings. Sometimes I miss Virginia, sometimes New England, Pennsylvania on occasion. Mostly I miss my parents and my best friend being train ride away. I don't know how long we'll stay out here, but it seems so right at the moment. There's never a place we'll go where everyone will follow, so I remind myself that the three of us are the family now, and have to create our own path. It's awfully hard to move forward, but ultimately so much more satisfying.