Knowing.

Last Friday morning at 3:30am I was sitting up and holding my inconsolably crying baby, wondering if it was teething, an ear infection or something I'd rather not even imagine. I finally got her to settle down and was having a much needed quiet moment holding her against my chest when I realized .... it's my birthday.

I flashed back to one year ago. This house was under construction, covered in a thick film of dust and looking like a bad scene from The Money Pit. Vanessa was pregnant with my daughter and I had told few people. I was turning 40, moving, having a baby on my own and knew that my entire life was changing. My nice, neat, controlled, predictable life was about to change -- radically and forever.

I thought back over the past year. The stress of a surrogate pregnancy, my daughter being born a month early under medical duress, the first three months of raising a tiny baby on my own while still working part time, the transition back to full-time work while managing a nanny. Sleepless nights, exhaustion, laughter, wonderment, tears, happiness, fear. What a blur of white-hot emotions.

And in that moment, in the middle of the night ... exhausted, worried, frustrated, and worth stating again, exhausted ... my main emotions were relief and joy. Relief that my daughter and I are finally together. Joy for the same reason.