Saying goodbye is hard.

I know I mention it a lot, but leaving Adelaide is the hardest thing I do every day. I spent my whole adult life waiting to be a mom, and the better part of my pregnancy naively thinking that I would be able to work it out financially to stay home with her indefinitely. And when I did the math... I got so depressed thinking about how my dreams wouldn't come to fruition quite the way I'd always imagined.

I'm lucky to have been able to stay home with her for the 9 months that I did. Well, not lucky... I worked my butt off during the summers nannying, paying off debt and saving so that I could afford the birth center and my extended maternity leave. No luck there... hard work instead.

But no matter how much extra work I did, nothing can change the fact that we still have a mortgage to pay and other bills and Kevin's income just wasn't cutting it. So return to work I did, in October.

And it was so tough, getting used to the idea that Adelaide wasn't spending her days with me... or rather, that I wasn't spending my days with Adelaide. That someone else was spending the majority of her days with her, teaching her, hugging her, taking care of her. It's hard wondering what she's doing at any given moment. It's hard seeing a new skill of her's, because I know someone else has taught it to her. But it has gotten easier, as time has gone by. The heartache has lessened, the tears come less frequently now. Mondays are still hard.

If the morning has been full of tantrums, I can't help but feel that it's because of my leaving, because our life is this way. If you could only see the way she sometimes cries and reaches for me as I try to cheerfully tell her I love her and that I will see her at the day's end. I can't help but think that if I were a stay at home mom we wouldn't have to go through these rushed goodbyes. And if the morning has been calm and full of singing and smiles, I still can't help but wish I could stay home so that I could enjoy more of that. It's a no-win situation as far as this longing goes. She is my world, and my day feels out of sync without her.

And every morning, at my insistance, Kevin and Adelaide stand on the porch and wave goodbye as I back the car out of the driveway. No matter how the morning has been, how the goodbye was, whether she wanted to give me a kiss or not, my heart skips a beat. I whisper goodbye to my little family, and try to remember that this life is still infinitely more full than it ever was before she came. Infinitely better, infinitely more important, infinitely more full of love.