Today’s guest post is from Krista, a totally awesome blogger you’d be crazy to ignore.  Her blog may be called Not Mommy of the Year, but secretly, I think she is.  With a handsome husband she’s clearly still madly in love with, and an adorable daughter she’d do anything for, I’m pretty sure Krista is Mommy of the Year, and will continue to be.  I don’t know how she manages to do it all.  Full time work, full time wife, and full time mother?  I can barely manage being a full time coach potato!

Krista is funny, self-deprecating, down-to-earth, hard working, honest, and awesome in every other general sort of way.  I hope to one day have it as together as she does.

So enjoy today’s guest post, and be sure to stop by Krista’s blog and behold her amazingness once you’re through reading her very sweet story here about her first day home with baby.
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Hi there!  If you’re reading this it means that Jess is taking some time off to birth her babe and adjust to this new reality of motherhood. So, let’s all say “Hi” to Jess and tell her how much we miss her.  I will do my best not to send you screaming from her blog for the next few minutes.

Even though, as I write this, she is 37 weeks pregnant and grumbling about being miserable, I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a part of me that was a little bit jealous of Jess. In a few short weeks, she is going to have a wonderful, delicious, squishy newborn.  And now that my daughter is trying to crawl, chew on power cords and pull the vent off my fireplace, it gets me thinking about when we brought her home from the hospital. I swear sometimes it feels like yesterday.

You know? Those days in the hospital are bliss.  You’re still on copious amounts of drugs, everyone who comes in the room gives you compliments, many of them bring presents, nurses bring you food and make sure that you’re well-hydrated and this tiny person who shares the room with you is just the cutest baby you’ve ever seen.  Sure, the bed’s not very comfortable, but the man you love with all your heart just became a father, the three of you are a family and it all seems perfect.  And so easy.

And then, less than 48 hours later, they kick you out.  They’re nice about it and all, but they come to your room, tell you how take care of your boobs and your stitches while your husband pretends not to hear, check to make sure you have a hat for the babe and walk you out the door.  C was a glorious baby until we put her in the car seat to go home.  And then she started screaming the way that only newborns can do.  I swear she was giving holy hell to the nurse that was discharging us.   Her face turned beat red and if any of us understood baby I’m sure we’d have heard, “WHAT the hell are you doing?  Don’t you know these two can’t even keep plants alive?  DON’T LET THEM TAKE ME!!”

We calmed her down and left the hospital, exchanging nervous looks along the way.  As Craig drove home slowly, I sat in the back seat with my newborn and held my breath every time we passed a car.  We pulled in the driveway, snapped a picture of the “it’s a girl” balloons that were taped to our mailbox and carried the babe inside.  I got settled, Craig laid C down in the pack ‘n play beside me and went to coach football practice.

The second I closed my eyes the doorbell rang and our stream of visitors began.  I didn’t mind.  I wanted to show off my baby, introduce her to her aunts and uncles and let her be loved on by her grandparents.  We ordered pizza, everyone asked how I was feeling and if I had pooped yet. (for serious, why is it acceptable to ask that question?)  Finally, a few hours later, everyone but my mom left and she went to bed.

Craig had to get up early the next day for a football game, so I expected to take the night shift alone.  Around 11, I fed C, put her in her jammies and placed her in the bassinette beside our bed.  I slipped under the covers and kissed Craig goodnight.  Just as I was drifting off to sleep, the crying started.  I picked her up and took her downstairs.  My mom came down and asked me if she could do anything.  “No,” I said, “we’re fine.”  I walked C for a while, and then rocked her.  Eventually she fell asleep and I started nodding off.

So, I took her back upstairs and laid her down and slipped back in bed.  Cue more crying.  This time as I got up, Craig got up with me.  We walked back downstairs together and sat on our oversized chair.  Craig was holding C tight with my head on his shoulder.  She drifted off again and we whispered about how tiny she was, how absolutely perfect.  He looked at me and said “is it OK that we’re holding her while she sleeps?”  I shrugged, closed my eyes, snuggled tighter to my husband and baby and said “No. We’re probably breaking a minimum of four parenting rules.  But right now, it feels absolutely perfect.”

Eight months later there are very few times where C sleeps in our arms.  In fact, there are very few times that she sits still long enough to be held at all.  She’s crawling, exploring and discovering.  And it’s amazing to watch her learn and grow.  But, it’s also a little sad and makes me miss those very first days of our life as a family of three.