When I came back to my classroom today after lunch, there was a blue onesie on my desk with a Post-It on it that said it was from one of my students. She has a baby of her own. But she left this precious onesie for me.
I dropped the marker I was using during my lecture today. I looked at it; looked at the class; noticed I had another marker; and said, “That’s just too far down for me these days.”
We all chuckled and I picked up the extra marker and proceeded with the lesson.
As discretely as she could, a girl got out of her chair, walked over to where I had dropped the marker, picked it up, and placed it on the tray.
I know it seems like a small gesture, but it wasn’t small to me. I want to be as fit and have as much energy as I always have. I want to be able to take the stairs two at a time without having to stop to catch my breath at the top. I want to be able to make it through a lecture without having to sit. I want to be able to make multiple rounds around the classroom, checking on my kids, without having to return to my desk to chug water.
But there’s a miracle baby inside me, and so I can’t do all that.
And my kids remind me over and over again that it’s really ok. They’ve got my back.