I'll Drink To That.

A few years ago, I helped some very creative friends give another pal an amazing baby shower. Really amazing. One of those that started with the coolest invitation I've ever seen, and ended with award-show-swag-bag-worthy party favors.

I was in charge of beverages. Only. That's it. Easy. Brainless.

But then some smart creative person thought that it would be a good idea--no an ESSENTIAL element--to make "drink tags" that thematically featured a variety of "motherhood" quotes. Quotes like this...

"Making the decision to have a child -- it's momentous.

It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."

--Elizabeth Stone

This was a crowd favorite. The kind of words that when placed together bring out the "aaaahhhs" in everyone. Well, almost everyone.

Not so much me.

Because, frankly, I thought that was the most horridly awful thing I'd read in a while. And I said as much to the group as we were "tying one on" in the less-fun literal way of actually tying these things on to the party glasses.

Then they collectively agreed that I was a robot.

And I collectively decided they were sappy crazy.

I mean, obviously that's a disturbing quote. First of all, it's SO VERY dramatic. And so, I don't know, icky. I mean, how is a disected organ walking around the city in any way sweet, or cute, or aawwhhh-inspiring? I didn't get it.

And I was pregnant at the time. But whatever. I knew I wouldn't be one of those sappy mothers whose internal organs were walking around town wearing ducky and bunny outfits to cozy playgroup teaparties of scrapbooking smocking storytime gatherings. Or something. Really I had no idea. But I'd never been that um, I don't know, sappy and I'd definitely never wanted my heart outside of my body. Not for one second.

And after many many millions of seconds had passed and my son was nearing two, I realized that we hadn't had an organ separation of any kind. Although, don't get me wrong, we've had our moments.

Moments like when the Hurricane and I spent our last few minutes together, just the two of us, in the hospital and I swore to him through intense tears that we'd go on many many adventures together. Or the moments before I went back to work when I swore to him I'd be home in a few hours. And on and on and on. Moments. Profound lifechanging moments. We've got hundreds of them.

And my heart was with him every single second. But it was still mine. It was still in my body. I continued to function. Beat by beat by beat.

And then I went to New York for a few days last week. Not by any means my first trip away. More like my 31st trip away. But something different happend. I experienced something new.

It all started in the plane as I was reading Vanity Fair's feature on Eric Clapton. Know the story? About his son? Well, for some reason, I didn't. And I was surprised by the ending. The horrible horrible ending. And I took that whole "tears in heaven" thing to a whole new level with an honest-to-goodness, whole-hearted "ugly cry" in my first class seat (thanks again to the hard-earned miles/upgrade from my hero the HcQ). This is extremely unusual for me because truth be told, unlike Duckie, I'm not a cryer. But all of a sudden, I was. A big fat cryer. Throughout the day and across the city. Ugly crying at City Bakery. In Scoop. At the end of the first act of Wicked. And later in the street. And even later at Spice Market.

Yes. I did.

Because all of a sudden, I got it. The heart outside of your body thing. And I experienced it. Through the story of a huge rock star, I felt just a twinge of what it would feel like to lose my heart forever. And I got it.

I got the quote.

Between the tears in Soho, I tried to explain this to my dear friend whom I was traveling with, a mother of three boys herself. And she of course understood what I was talking about much more completely than I did. After all, I was just starting to feel this out. She'd been there for many years and told me as much. And she told me I wasn't the only one. And this helped me stop crying. Because for some reason and for a minute, I thought I was the only one. Someone having a psychic moment. Or a complete breakdown. But she knew better. She knew I was just being a mom. And she sweetly gave me a hug. And reassured me. And raised her mojito to toast the heart of motherhood, and the love outside of our control, and the souls that we get to treasure along the way.

So here's to the hearts outside of our bodies.

And here's to us.

Cheers.