Half of my heart...

It feels like half of my heart left last week. My mom went back to Idaho. She took such good care of me--she took far too good care of me. And she was endlessly good to the babies, and such a help with them and with things around the house. We have been so lucky to have her here--I have been so lucky to have her here. What a blessing that a girl gets to be the best of friends with her mom, and even though we live so many miles apart, have the time we've had together.


Half of my heart has always been out west, and lately, my heart has really been yearning for home--for those mountains, to be closer to my family, and to be able to do more of the things that I like to do, with the people with whom I like to do those things. Having Addison and Jackson has made these feelings even stronger--I want them to be able to grow up doing the things that I got to do, to play outside all day, to go swimming all summer, to be the first one to catch a fish every time we all go fishing, to go skiing and snow machining and sledding, to build snowmen and snow forts, to learn to water ski and to ride a tube giggling and squealing until you can't hold on any more, to have a relationship with their grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins (when they get some).

Compounding all of these feelings is the fact that next week I have to go back to work. Consequently, half of my heart will be left at home every day with these babies. They have been my world these past four months, and it has been such a magical time. I want to see everything with these two--I don't want to miss anything, and it seems like they are doing something new every single day. Turns out, I'm selfish--I want to be the one who experiences all of the new things they're going to be doing in the next weeks, months, and years with them. It kills me that I'm going to have to be at work while someone else gets to spend their days with my angel babies. It hurts my heart that I won't be able to see their smiling faces all day and hold them close. I can't imagine not being the one that they look to when they need to be comforted or reassured, the one that cheers them on day in and day out.

My poor heart. It can't take much more of this.