Before my son's birth, I envisioned long afternoons of cuddling and bonding, making gourmet meals for my husband and catching up on the books on my nightstand that had gone ignored while I worked full-time. It was going to be fabulous... and then our son got here.
The other day, I sat in my infant daughter's bedroom, packing up clothes that no longer fit her. There were no tears, no nostalgic feeling, no overwhelming desire for her to stay this small forever. Is there something wrong with me?