It happened.

Eleven weeks and change ago, I had a baby.

I don't have a dramatic delivery story. Much like my pregnancy, it was smooth sailing. The few days after were rough. I had never spent the night in a hospital, and had no idea how difficult it was to sleep. (Big duh there.) Luckily, I had my mom at home to help me out. Rather than google potentially terrifying things, I could just say..."Mooooom, is this normal?" and she'd allay my fears. Her most fantastic help meant that when she left, it was extra terrifying. In fact, the night after she left, my husband and I high-fived for making it 24 hours.

There are still moments when P.I.C. and I look at each other and laugh in disbelief. We have a kid. We are parents. We made a baby. SHE'S SO CUTE. (Everyone says that, I know, I know.)

You know what? All of those parenting cliches are so true. It's the hardest job in the world. It's the best job in the world. Blah blah blah. All you talk about is poop. (Partly true.) The entire first two weeks you are topless. (Um, try entire first month. Even now, I feel like I'm always experiencing an intentional nip slip.) I cry at the drop of a hat. The hormones that messed me up during pregnancy have evolved to make me a weepy mess.

I have so much to say about it, and yet have such a difficult time finding the words. I guess I can sum it up by saying...I am really, really happy. I wish that I could fit back into my jeans again, but I know this will happen with time. I'd rather focus on taking care of the little lady for now.

I go back to work on Friday. That makes me mostly sad, but a little happy, and for the happy bit, I feel guilty. ALL THE FEELINGS. Seriously. Anyhow, I will leave you alone with some four-day baby fingers.

Meet the little lady.

Yet another identity crisis.

It has taken me a long time to be okay with myself. I struggled a lot in my early to late twenties about myself as a person. You know, the big questions: Who am I? Who do I want to be? How do I want to project myself to the world? What really makes me happy?

By the time I hit thirty, I definitely had a better grasp on my own self. I was happy. Healthy. Strong. I was in a good relationship. I had wonderful friends. I was close with my family. I knew what was important to me, and I lived my life accordingly. We took vacations, I went out for dinners with my friends. I pursued hobbies. I tried to make myself a better person. Life wasn't easy. I know it wasn't perfect. But I was really and truly happy.

Today, I am 33 years old, three years past that point where I felt like I had it figured out. Of course, because life is complicated and messy, I decided to throw a wrench in my happy life. My husband and I decided to procreate.

I am adding a tiny, squealing, complicated mass of cells to my life. It could be as soon as tomorrow, or nineteen days from now. Of course, this baby is wanted so very much. For a very, very long time, I knew I wanted to have a family with my husband. But when it comes down to actually happening, and finally acknowledging the fact that this baby is going to come out and stay out...forever...it's terrifying.

This year, I went to Mexico for a dear friend's wedding and drank copious amounts of bottled water instead of margaritas. I rang in my birthday with a non-alcoholic drink rather than bottles of champagne. I have abstained from deli meats and sushi for nearly forty weeks. I have accepted my growing waistline and increasing number on the scale with little more than a shoulder shrug. I stopped all training for races finding that peeing my pants was more of a probability than a possibility. My life has already changed.

I'm a little sad. My identity is changing once again. I sure hope it's a person that I like as much as I like the one I have discovered now. I hope that it's one that my husband loves as much as he loves me now. And I really hope it's one that this child will love and respect as it grows.

So. Many. Emotions.

Guys, it's been so long since I've written, I don't even know: do people. still. use. this. to. emphasize. points?

Whatever.

I just want to discuss my roller coaster of emotions that have been seemingly taking over my life lately. Now, I am the first to admit, I am an emotional person from my very core. Hallmark commercials? SOB. Folgers Coffee commercials where the military brother/son comes home? SOBSOB. I am, to put it kindly, a hot mess of tears on a regular day. Add a healthy dose of hormones to this, and I just cannot get a grip on my life. PMS tends to be a time when I put P.I.C. "on notice" of my emotions. Because yes, those tears can turn to rage at the drop of a hat. Even better than PMS? PREGNANCY HORMONES. Guys. This is serious. I am hot mess times nine bajillion.

Sigh. Please tell me it gets better. Once that sweet little fetus is evicted from my womb, tell me eventually my tears will be reserved for commercials and real things...but...I just said sweet little fetus and thinking about the baby in a real way makes me cry. EVERY. TIME.

DAMMIT.

EXCITING NEWS.

I am an aunt!!!! My beautiful niece was born on Tuesday. I found out early Tuesday morning that my sister-in-law was labor. Having a rather busy two days ahead of me, I knew I had to go to the office. But...it was torture. Needless to say, we rushed home from work on Tuesday and went right to the hospital.

She is perfect. Never have I loved something so small so much (well, except for Oxford, of course). Seeing my brother with his child is amazing. He is a natural. The love he has on his face is just...indescribable. My time with my niece was short, and I am counting the hours until I can see her again. (27...)

That is my happiest news for right now. I mean, I can tell you that I ran 10 miles on Saturday without stopping. But really, I just want to gush about BABY. Sorry.

Also, I signed up to run the Chicago Rock 'n' Roll Half Marathon. Clearly, I've gone crazy.

This post has no structure and no theme. I'm not sorry for that. I AM A FREAKING AUNT!!!!