Yesterday I was in my office and a lady walked in with her two year old granddaughter. She was toddling around and talking. She wore pink Crocs like the ones my lil one likes. When I walked out to escort them to the patient room she ran up and hugged my legs. It tugged at my heart strings. I picked her up and carried her into the patient room and sat her in a "big chair". I walked out of that room and had to wipe away a tear. I missed my daughter so badly it hurt.
I was reminded of an email I read once when I was waaaaaay too young to understand it. It was a mother having lunch with her friend who had no children. The no child woman casually said, "So we're taking a poll, we're thinking about having kids, what do you think?" The mother sat back and thought about all the things she could tell her about how her life would change. I don't remember them all but I distinctly remember this one:
"She doesn't understand how she'll be in a meeting at work and have to resist the urge to run to her child, grab them, and hug them tight."
And I wanted to do that. I had to fight the urge to get in my car and drive to get my child. I wanted to wrap my arms around her and hold her tight. I wanted to apologize to her for all the time I had to be away from her because I was working to support us, for all the times I had to leave her crying at the door while I walked away after a stolen kiss and hug because she wouldn't give me one. More mornings than not, even though she does like her school, she does cry when I leave. I hate that. I have even called several times and Jennifer tells me she's fine. "Oh honey, she was fine two minutes after you left. She's guilting you because she knows it works. They start early." And I know that. But I still hurt.
Her playing... 
Me worrying...
The easiest answer is the one that closed the email I remember. The mother sits back after thinking of many, many possible things to tell this woman, she finally simply smiles and says, "You'll never be the same."
And you never are...
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