Here at my mom's, we were looking through their closets at some old stuff and we found my First Communion dress. Of course Emma wanted to try it on. It came down to my knees when I was seven, but reaches the floor on her and, since it's all ruffly and sparkly, she of course nabbed it for herself. She's been wearing it ever since, and I'm certain she will wear it for the entire ski trip. She will defninitely be the most ridiculously over-dressed person in the ski lodge! I can't post pics now, but will when we get back home.

I've been worrying about how Emma will deal with the new baby and how my relationship with her will change. Someone in my birth club on MDC posted this poem, and it made me cry when I read it (although what doesn't these days?).

As I hold your 2-year-old hand, basking in the glow of our magical
relationship, I suddenly feel a kick from within, as if to remind me that
our time alone is limited.
And I wonder: How could I ever love another child as I love you?

Then she is born, and I watch you.
I watch the pain you feel at having to share me,
as you've never shared me before.
I hear you telling me in your own way,
"Please love only me."
And I hear myself telling you in mine,
"I can't," knowing, in fact, that I never can again.
You cry. I cry with you.
I almost see our new baby as an intruder
on the precious relationship we once shared.
A relationship we can never quite have again.
But then, barely noticing, I find myself attached to that new being, and
feeling almost guilty.
I'm afraid to let you see me enjoying her.
-- as though I am betraying you.
But then I notice your resentment change,
first to curiosity, then to protectiveness,
finally to genuine affection.
More days pass, and we are settling into a new
routine.

The memory of days with just the two of us is fading fast.
But something else is replacing those wonderful times we shared, just we
two.
There are new times -- only now, we are three.
I watch the love between you grow, the way you look at each other, touch
each other.
I watch how she adores you -- as I have for so long.
I see how excited you are by each of her new accomplishments.
And I begin to realize that I haven't taken something from you, I've given
something to you.
I notice that I am no longer afraid to share my love openly with both of
you.
I find that my love for each of you is as different as you are, but equally
strong.

And my question is finally answered,
to my amazement..
Yes, I can love another child as much as I love you-- only differently.
And although I realize that you may have to share my time, I now know you'll
never share my love.
There's enough of that for both of you
-- you each have your own supply.
I love you -- both and I thank you both for blessing my life.

~author unknown