I’m sitting in the airport at my gate waiting for my plane to finally board (an hour and a half later than originally scheduled, what a surprise), having a minor panic attack. My heart is racing, my hands are shaking and my breath is coming out staggered. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be going to Florida. There shouldn’t be an annual trip to Florida to visit Noelle this year. I should have a seven week old. I should be sleep deprived. The last thing I should be doing is boarding a plane. And I shouldn’t be going on a child-free vacation. It shouldn’t be possible.
This all hit like a brick. I was just sitting in my seat watching episodes of Nashville and Nurse Jackie thanks to Richmond’s free wifi. Excited to see my best friends. To be away from the kids. To get a much needed vacation, to hit the beach and the pool, to have some downtime. To find a positive in Zoe’s not being here. But I don’t want this. I want to be home, sitting on the couch, feeding Zoe, yelling at C and J to go find something to do. To figure out how I’m getting dinner ready and cleaning the house. I shouldn’t be here.
I know that all of these feelings are going to disappear the moment I see my girls. Once again I’ve been caught off guard.
Sorry if there are errors. No time to proofread…we’re boarding. I just may have to get myself a $10 drink once on board.