Love

I thought I knew love. As in many things in life, wise in my 30 years, I thought I had it all figured out. Yes, I thought I did. Then, I went to Vegas.

Several months ago my dad asked if I would be able to attend the Vision West Optometric Conference in Las Vegas in October. At the time, October seemed so far away and a getaway with my husband sounded like a wonderful idea. The plan was for Dad and Mom to go as well as Kim and Brent (my sister and brother-in-law). This would allow us to see emerging technologies and trends in eye care to bring home to practice in Dad's offices. I talked with Stan and Lisa (Dan's parents) about them watching Hudson while we would be away and it was set. They were just days on a calendar then, marked with "Vegas," but as they inched closer in time, those little letters sickened me with dread. I didn't think I could do it.

As if leaving Hudson wasn't hard enough, Dan had a conference in Phoenix and had to leave 3 days prior to our trip. I was to fly out with Kim on Wednesday and meet Dan in Las Vegas. Looking back now, I realize how much of a wreck I really was; a productive wreck, but a wreck nonetheless.

Two week prior to leaving I started my lists, and schedules. Poor Stan and Lisa. I had them armed with a complete calendar of events in Hudson's pretty simplistic life. Honestly, the sheets could have just said, "Sleep, Eat, Play." But, that did nothing for this nervous mom, so instead I do what I do best. I completely over-plan. Throughout my life it's been my coping mechanism. I was that kid that preferred to over-study. I enjoyed the feeling of leaving an exam knowing the teacher could have asked me 100 more questions that I would have known all the answers to. In competitive speech, I would record my own voice saying my speech over and over again and play it back to myself until I could repeat every syllable. To the other extreme, I too, was the one who preferred to be over-dressed than under, many times showing up in way too high of heels or way too much bling than the occasion called for. Even still, I felt as though I was ready for anything.

It took me 4 days to pack for Hudson's trip to Nana and Granddad's. Yes, again, I realize all that was really necessary was the essentials, but I wanted him to feel at home (and me to feel as though he felt at home -- way too much "feeling" here I know) and so I packed just about everything he may want, need or think about needing. He had his sleep sheep, his fishies, his mobile, his cookie monster blanket, a back up blanket he loved, all the medicines in the world (yes, I know Stan is a doctor, but we're not talking logic here), and just about everything else.

Finally, after such anticipation, the day came. I picked up my sister in Derby and headed to Hutch to drop off Hudson. My stomach was in knots and I felt the tears welling up in my eyes as we pulled into the drive. I got out of the car and went for Hudson. He looked up at me and scowled as if he could detect my apprehension. It was that moment that I realized, I couldn't wallow like I normally would. There could be no tears. There could be no sadness. He was reading every emotion and I needed to put on a brave face. And so, it went very quickly. Band-aid style you might say. I had him unpacked and kissed goodbye in a matter of minutes and off we drove.

At that point, with my 24 pound weight loss (or Hud loss) I didn't know what to do. I had a nudging feeling I had forgotten something. I continually looked in my rear view mirror at his empty space in my backseat. Suddenly, my heart would quicken and I would fear I left him somewhere. I couldn't shake the loss.

The trip to Vegas was wonderful, productive, and relaxing. Although hard, once Dan arrived (he flew from Phoenix where he was working to meet me), I found it easier to relax. Pictures of Hudson having fun with his shipment of toys (yes, I said SHIPMENT of toys! I think he wanted to live at Nana and Gdads!) and skyping helped a great deal just to know he was OK and still remembered me.

But, no words can describe the feeling when we were reunited once again. I drove home from the airport to find Nana, Granddad and Hudson waiting for me. After a quick wash of my hands (no, I didn't lose my mom fear of germs for my baby) I whisked Hudson in my arms. I will never forget his smile or how he grabbed my face in his hands and pressed his nose up to mine. Home never felt so good.

Just when I think I had it all figured out, Hudson came and continually turns my world upside down. I love Dan more than anything, and never could grasp how someone could say love for a child is any different. Now I know. It's a love so pure, so innocent, so unbelievable. Words cannot begin to describe the feeling of your own heart beating in a little chest. Their pain is your pain, their joy is your joy. And to think, I've only just begun.

Now, as I clutch my little boy and make up for lost snuggle time, I am reminded of a quote I recently saw that touched my heart. "Just when you think you know love, something little comes along to remind you of just how BIG it really is."