As I'm sitting here typing this, my heart is absolutely bursting with love for the two girls sleeping in my bedroom. Audrey, sleeping peacefully after a nice feeding, blissfully listening to some light tunes emanating from her bassinet. Natalie, catching a well deserved nap, hurting physically in ways I cannot even understand, bravely facing the challenges that lie ahead. I'm so proud, so amazed, so awestruck.

It's nothing that literally billions of other parents haven't gone through, but here is a difference. I'm 32. Here in the midwest, that pretty much makes me ELDERLY when it comes to the age to start having babies. Many of my friends already have kids older than mine, and even though I understood that they had kids, I didn't understand exactly what that MEANT. The pain, the anguish. My younger sister and brother both had kids go straight into the NCU unit (neo-natal care). At the time, I knew they were scared, but I didn't UNDERSTAND how deep they were scared, how frightened they were.

Now, I do.

Right now, I'm scared to death for my child. She is perfectly safe right now in my house, but I'm still scared to death.

As a teacher, I often gripe about how stupid I think some parents are, naively turning a blind eye to their child's transgressions or short comings. I've gotten furious with some parents who thought their child was the new messiah-on-earth.

Now, I understand it. I don't always agree with it, but now I realize how a parent can feel that way. Right now, my baby girl is perfect. She's not, but to me, she is.

I hope I can keep that in mind when I deal with parents in the future.