Today I am off on our annual Ladies' Retreat through the Baptist General Convention of Oklahoma. Honesty alert: this was actually written yesterday - which, as I'm writing it is "today," I'll let your mind stew on that for awhile.
My first retreat after the birth of Micaiah, truth be told, was rough for me. I thought I could handle it, truly, I did. But as I awoke on Saturday morning without a baby to snuggle and my husband close by, I found a spot to be alone and the tears streamed down my face. All I wanted was to be home and home was two and a half hours away via church van (and on top of my not being comfortable commandeering an 11-passenger van, I don't think the other 10 ladies left with no form of transportation would have appreciated my doing so). I felt like a fifth-grader at sleep-away camp for the first time.
Of course, I pushed through the feelings and survived the rest of the morning until arriving home more than a few hours later. But I was more than ready to see my baby girl when the time came.
Here's hoping I'm holding together a little better this year. Just yesterday (or "today" - wink, wink), I took a long look at my bubbly little boy giggling with his Daddy and already felt my homesickness welling up.
This coming from the woman who had no problem leaving her one-week-old first child with Gram and Grandy while she went on a date with her husband. Apparently my apron strings have selective levels of tightness.