Warning: I'm pregnant and listening to Norah Jones... this post is bound to get sentimental.
Yesterday was my birthday and it was a fantastic day. I took the day off from work and only had to spend ONE hour on a client call, which is pretty good considering the track record of my "days off." Then Ben sent me on a spa day, a treat that happens every year on my birthday and for which I become more grateful for each year as it feels I have less and less time for myself. For two hours, I was massaged and rubbed and relaxed and painted and buffed and paraffined, and I left feeling like a million bucks. And to top off the day, Ben came back from out of town (it really is exciting when I get to see him after he has been gone a few days, as silly as that sounds) and after dinner we shared a few Sprinkles cupcakes that he bought as a surprise. I went to sleep feeling extremely loved from all the gifts and well-wishes that my parents, husband and new family sent -- a feeling that I don't think will ever get old.
When I was little, I used to hate going to sleep overs because I worried about my parents. I'd get anxiety in the middle of the night and would need to see them RIGHT AWAY... and looking back I attribute this to the fact that I was an only child. A VERY loved only child. My family was my whole world, and I always knew that if something happened to my parents, my whole world would go away. And while I still feel the same (maybe more) love for my parents, I also feel an intense comfort and gratitude in the family I've adopted through my marriage. While I feel this way all the time, special days (like birthdays) remind me just how lucky I am to have parents who love me as much as they do, a husband who loves me as much as he does, and an extended family who has accepted me with such open arms and open hearts.
I can't wait to bring Baby E into this family.