My Missing Piece

As I type these words, I am sitting in a hotel room all alone, on the other side of the country from my family. I am in California for the next four days and it’s already a difficult adjustment. I knew that this trip would be hard, but I underestimated just how much. I’ve never been away from Lincoln before and it physically hurts me. My heart aches from the separation and I long to hold him tight in my arms again. My husband Facetimed me earlier so I could see him and I definitely did not bawl like a baby at the sight of my baby. To make matters worse, my mother-in-law informed me that Lincoln has seemed sad all day – like he knows I’m gone and he misses me. That hit me right in the gut. This is so hard.

So while I’ll enjoy a full night’s rest, some time to get my work done uninterrupted, and a chance to go to the gym while I’m here – I would trade all of that in an instant to be back in Virginia playing on the floor with my little one. It’s a feeling that is difficult to describe – having a child literally feels like a piece of your heart is walking around outside of you. And being away from him feels like my heart is reaching out for its missing piece.

These next few days cannot go by fast enough. I can’t wait to go home on Friday. When I can hug my little boy, that is when my broken heart will feel mended. Until then, I’m just missing my piece.

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