No. 1

At two times in my life I have had a moment where I realized just how alone I was. That no matter what plans or arrangements I made, no matter what I'd hoped to accomplish that day, that I am a mother and that ultimately it comes down to me sacrificing everything for my girl. I am an Army wife, hundreds of miles away from family, friends come and go, my husband comes and goes. In the end it is just me.

I was 6 weeks postpartum. A day I had looked forward to since we'd gotten home from the hospital. I could return to the gym. Return to the place where I felt strong and in control. My husband left for work that morning promising to be home in time for me to go to my favorite class. He didn't make it. I sat there in my workout clothes on the front porch like a jilted bride. I bawled my eyes out while my daughter slept. Realizing all at once that when I became a mother I'd given up my freedom. Given up control over my life. That ultimately I could only rely on myself.

And then to tonight. I'd decided that since my husband was gone I would take the opportunity of not worrying about having dinner on the table and Katelyn happy for him to come home to every night to work on becoming a better coach. I'd reached out to friends for the name of a new babysitter and was all setup to head into Savannah for the evening. J has been gone for two weeks, won't be home for three more. I was looking forward to an evening spent talking about biomechanics, squatting, butt-winking and other nerdy CrossFit coach stuff. The babysitter didn't show up. K sat at the counter, excited beyond belief to meet this new sitter that shared her name. I tried to hide my tears of disappointment and of frustration from her as I started her mac-n-cheese. There is no one who can come help me. It's just me and my girl and a rather useless but pretty dog.