History in the Making

Today is election day and, in no small way, history is being made. This excites me. (It also excites my husband. He must have been first in line this morning.) I have my opinion about who is better fit to lead our nation. And you have yours. I have never been so eager to cast my vote. And you? We both await the results tonight to see who it will be... (gulp.)

What I most want to blog about today, however, is my love for my daughter. Joe and I are off to Amsterdam tomorrow. Joe has business in Germany, which inspired me to seize the opportunity and go with him. We hemmed and hawed and eventually made a few choices, such as going to Amsterdam instead (Joe will move on to Germany after I head home), leaving Amelia at home, and having my mom and sister, alternately, stay with her.

Up until now, I've been very excited for this adventure with Joe. I've long awaited seeing Anne Frank's house, and to experience the laid-back, anything-goes, historically-rich city. We've been playfully discussing care-free days over there; We intend to visit many coffee shops, sleep in (a little), and follow our whims... no naps, no schedules, no meal-planning, no fussiness (at least, not from Amelia)...

Which leads to my heavy heart today. No Amelia. I will be far, far away from my daughter. I will not be able to kiss those delicious cheeks, or cuddle, or see those gorgeous eyes for five full days. I turned to Joe last night and said, "I may not be able to get on that plane tomorrow." To which my supportive husband replied, "if you don't, you don't. And that's ok." To which I replied, "I need encouragement." Ah, its not easy being a husband.

Mind you, this is coming from a woman who's number 1 value has been freedom. I am a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-vintage-skirt kind of gal (or jeans, these days). To think that I will have to will, seriously will, myself on that plane is a little short of shocking. My stream of thinking is something like this right now, "What if something happened to us? Who would best care for Amelia? No one could love Amelia the way that we do. She needs gentleness, empowerment, affection, strength... Should I leave my wishes for her in case anything happened? Would Amelia remember us? Me? Are the 3 pages of instructions (lovingly dubbed "The Mama Manifesto" by Joe) enough? Should I not go? Am I doing the right thing??"

And I am sitting here today staring at my beautiful daughter. Oh, I love her. I mean, I love her. I love her the way that I never imagined I could love another being. Its different than the way that I love Joe. And I love Joe. If you are a mother, you understand this.

I know, deep down, that this, too, is part of the path. Learning to leave her, to tend to my own need for adventure, to be alone with Joe, to have faith, and to allow myself to miss her, to be sad, to send prayers that all will be well.

Amelia Eve, I love you, I love you, I love you. My little spark, my darling daughter, my comic, my strong girl. Leaving you is really, really hard.