Coming Home

For the record, I was terrified to bring Nolan home from the hospital. He and I spent two blissful days and nights

snuggling and kissing and cuddling.

While I was more than ready to get out of that hospital room, take a shower, and sleep in my own bed without a nurse coming in every two hours,

I was scared spitless.
Why?

Because there are two loud crazy obnoxious boys that live at my house. I was afraid for my sweet tiny baby. I was also a little (a lot) scared for myself.

For the last nine months I've had countless people tell my how the transition from two kids to three is the hardest. And knowing how high-maintenance Preston has been lately nearly brought me to tears. (Not nearly. It did.) I knew Dan was going back to work (not that he ever fully stopped working). I was an emotional wreck bringing that baby home.

But I am happy to say that my fears were unfounded.

The boys adore their brother. The transition hasn't been very difficult at all.

Sure, I've had my moments.

Like the morning that I had intense neck and back pain and was already maxed out on painkiller from the migraine the night before, Preston was completely wigging out, and Dan was walking out the door to work.

Yeah, that morning sucked.

But we survived.

And it's only getting easier.

Life is good.