A Sigh of Relief

Ever since I had my babies, I feel like I'm holding my breath 23 out of 24 hours a day. I hold my breath when RJ bounces too high on the trampoline. I hold my breath when he hip checks his sister and I want to hip check him. I hold my breach when I change GiGi's pants and when I wipe RJ's bottom. (No call sets off a sense of dread  more than, "Mom! I pooped! Can you clean me up?").

Because I work, I hold my breath over other things too. I hold my breath hoping that my babies won't call their nanny "mama" before they call me "mama." I turn blue hoping that they won't choke on grapes while I'm at work or skin their knees or cry because they missed their goodbye kisses at the door.

Lately, GiGi has been cruising, crawling, and bear crawling. It's a matter of days before she walks. And I've been holding my breath. I'm pretty sure I missed RJ's real first steps, though his nanny at the time would have never told me if I did. But GiGi just isn't quite "there" yet.

So I thought. This weekend, I breathed a huge sigh of relief as my little woman took one tiny step for baby, and one huge leap for mommy's heart. Tentative, barely, but it was a step. A real one. And my heart leapt. I can say I saw my baby's first step! (And she did it again last night!)

She could be running when I get home from the office today, and I'll breathe a sigh of relief because I saw where it all started.