Well, the butt is significantly better. Whoo-hoo. Though, in truth, it’s still pretty awful - the Miralax, the Fibercon, the pain relievers, the post-poop cream, the weekly pelvic floor therapy appointments. Again, I feel super, super sexy. Not.

But, the pain is in the 1-3 range, versus the 7-9 range like it was, so I get to be a present mom these days … and that’s so, so good. And what does that look like?

  • Two-stepping to Jake Owen’s “Down to the Honkeytonk” around the living room couch in the mornings.

  • Responding excitedly to her baby babble like I understand what she’s saying.

  • Aerobic booty dancing to Major Lazer while she watches entranced from her back on the floor.

  • Reading peek-a-boo books in the glider before bed.

  • Going for walks around the neighborhood the second it cools off even a little bit.

  • Singing Chris Stapleton’s “Millionaire” to her while she leans back on my knees.

  • Handing her Lphant, reindeer rattle, paci, or spoon each and every time she drops them.

  • Helping her push Grissom’s kisses away when they get too intense.

  • Playing with her in the pool.

  • Rubbing her back and humming “Rock-A-By-Baby” to her when she wakes up restless (but still sleepy) from a nap.

  • Walking in to get her up at 7 am, my “Good Morning, Baby Girl” met with eye contact and bright smiles as she pushes up from her chest.

  • Cleaning all her little parts while she kicks and splashes and coos in her baby bathtub.

  • Hands-free pumping while I spin and shake and hum along with her toys for her as she lays on her back and watches and grabs and chatters on about something.

  • Crying happy and grateful tears while I sing her Bruno Mars’ “Just the Way You Are” and Dierks Bentley’s “Living.”

I just love her. All of her. Her big blue eyes, her eager hands, her interest and alertness, her coos, her cries, her baby bird hair, the dimple on her cheek … even her smelly feet. She’s a blessing I didn’t even know why or how much I wanted or needed. I am grateful.