Back to Work Eve

The first two weeks at home with Baby O were a blur:  feeding my boy every two hours and feeling confident that neither him nor I would ever sleep through the night.  Learning that you really do need to be fast with diapers or your infant son will poop on the changing table while peeing on you, the wall and his own sweet little face.  Prioritizing someone else before yourself to the point where sleeping, eating and personal hygiene are but a fond distant memory.

The next four weeks were a little better.  Baby O got the OK to sleep longer between feedings and I started to figure out how he needed things to be done.  Sleep-Eat-Diaper-Smile-Repeat.  I also began to remember what it was like to be something other than a mom of a newborn.  My body still hurt, but it hurt less.  I was still tired, but figuring out how to prioritize (shower-sweatpants-sleep-caffeine-eat-repeat).

At six weeks I was half way through my leave and just starting to feel like a person again.  I could function, my house wasn't a total disaster and my baby and I had come to an understanding: I would do anything in my power to keep him happy and he would only poop on daddy.

Eight weeks into my leave things were running smoothly.  Baby O was sleeping for 8 hours a night and was deemed perfectly healthy by his pediatrician.  We could relax a bit and take things more naturally.  I'd ventured out of the house for a Halloween date night with my husband and friends and baby had his first sleepover at Grandmas.  And we both survived.

Now it's twelve weeks into my leave and I have to go back to work.  I am excited and sad and a little scared.  Excited because I'll get to talk to adults again, have a reason to wear pants without elastic and because I like my job most days.  Because I'll get out of the house and rekindle friendships and enjoy Taco Tuesdays.  Sad because I love spending time with my baby, who is growing and changing and learning new things every day and I know I'll start missing out on his new discoveries.  Because I won't be my son's primary caregiver 40+ hours a week and I while I know he'll be happy and safe with Grandpa, I won't be there to see it myself.  Scared because I'm worried my sleepless nights will effect my job or that my baby will miss me when I'm gone.

I know its silly to worry so much.  Women have made it work since the beginning of time and in much worse circumstances.  Everything will be fine.  I just have to keep reminding myself of that until I see that its true.

Becoming a Mom

I've spent the last two months on the couch.  Or more specifically, on the right side of my hand-me-down couch from the 80s in front of a laptop that runs Netflix 18 hours out of the day.  It has been both glorious and exhausting.

When people told me having a baby would change my life, I believed them, but I didn't really understand what they meant.  Most of my friends have children and I listened eagerly when they retold their stories of sleepless nights and poop cannons.  I observed parents interacting with their children and got honest with myself.  Could I run on no sleep?  Would I mind being covered in third party body fluids?  Would I mourn my loss of autonomy, free time and fun money?  I thought about it, made lists (it's what I do) and thought about it some more.  I knew I could do it.  After talking with my husband we decided to go ahead and try to start a family after our wedding.  And so we did.

I asked myself all of the practical questions.  What I didn't think to ask, and what good intentioned friends, family and countless hours on google couldn't quite explain, are the emotions that go into having a baby.  The second my little boy was placed on my chest I felt the world shift.  I looked at him, and he moved his head toward me, and I was shattered and rebuilt in an instant.

I feel lucky that my instincts kicked in immediately.  That I experienced the overwhelming love and pride and joy at holding my baby for the first time that people talk about but can't quite explain.  It was the most glorious moment of my life.

I go back to work soon and I'm feeling torn about it.  A part of me is excited to go back to work, to have a reason to take off the sweatpants, have adult conversations and work with my customers again.  Another part of me is crushed that I won't be able to sing to my baby as he wakes up and we open the curtains and change his diaper and read silly books between nap times.  I wonder, is this what all moms feel like when they go back to work?

Anyway, playtime in the bouncy seat is coming to a close (I can tell because the happy coos and frantic batting at toys has turned into the random smack and grunts) so I better go.  I've only got a few weeks of this left so I'm going to enjoy it all I can.