Lonely office

It's very, very quiet in my office this morning. There are no toys singing the "ABC Song," and no Baby Einstein DVDs are chirping on a spare laptop. My files are in tidy piles on my desk and the books are neatly arranged on my bookcases. My door is wide open, and there is no worry of small beings "escaping."

The spare chair does not contain a car seat, my door frame is void of a Johnny Jump Up, and the giant tan backpack that normally rests on the floor next to my feet is gone.

It's such an odd feeling... Noah is not with me.

I was able to waltz into the kitchen in my office this morning and make a cup of coffee with BOTH hands. And when I unloaded the car, I simply parked in my usual spot, grabbed my one tiny bag and walked in the office. No unloading, no unbundling, no worries about falling.

You don't realize how much a part of your routine and your reality a baby becomes. Everything I did today felt so out of place. Almost like I was forgetting something.

Amazingly, I have not cried. My eyes have watered at least 15 times since I pulled out of Heidi's driveway at 8:15 this morning. I have swallowed over and over and said swear words in my head (my little trick to keep from crying), and I have taken more deep breaths than an Olympic swimmer.

The sight of Noah's baby spoon in the office dish drainer, coupled with his empty pack-n-play were almost my undoing, but I am holding it together. Truly, this is a feat of epic proportions. I am proud of me. :)

So I have only 10 more hours until I get to see Noah. Hooray!

Happy Monday to the rest of you. Here's to a good, fast week.