A month ago today I was settleing into a hospital room, prepareing to start labor the next morning.
When I think that my baby will be a month old tomorrow. I prefer to think of it as four weeks, some how that’s easier on my nerves. She’s gotten so big, I’m afraid I’ll blink and she’ll be having her own child. But there is no reason to panic, it is a long way off.
I’m proud of myself, I’m getting back on my feet, acomplishing things, and dealing with having a baby better then I dreamed. I am maintaining a relationship with my husband. I just have to fix work into my routine and I can offically call my life settled for a bit.
Until we move in September. >.<