In August, 12 weeks seemed like an eternity.
I had plans to finish a scrapbook, clean the house up and down,
reorganize the closets, bake bread and get my running groove back.
It's now been 14 weeks; 2,352 hours spent singing, rocking, nursing, wiping, nursing, laundering, nursing, and cuddling. There has not been a lot of baking, running or organizing. Or sleeping for that matter.
But there was a day when maternity leave stopped feeling like a
painful marathon and more like the most wonderful gift. We're off to
Minnesota for a week tomorrow and then I'm back to work. Today is our
last day at home together.
Just like that, it's over.
This lump in my throat that has been growing slowly has now erupted into tears.
was totally unprepared for this transformation. I thought I'd be bored,
anxious to get back to a job I enjoy most days. I thought I would feel
like I do at the end of a vacation - sad but excited for a routine
My routine these days is sleep as long as I can (7:30 a.m.), lie
on a blanket for an hour tickling and making weird noises to elicit a
smile or giggle, nurse every two or three hours, do dishes and laundry
one-handed, psych myself up for a few hours before a Target run and do
everything possible to keep him on the good side of the line. Oh, and I
also watch a lot of Gossip Girl and Army Wives (don't judge me).
I remember when I lived in Iowa for my first job out of college. I
had few friends and lived in an apartment alone. I would come home for
the weekend to visit, and as I would get ready to drive back on Sunday
night, it didn't make sense. I was happy and alive at home, in Iowa I
was sad. And I chose the sad because it meant career, money to pay the
bills and probably some sort of "this is making me a better person" song
This feels the same. Except way worse.
Maybe I'll adjust and the routine and return to the adult world will be refreshing.
But right now it feels really, really painful.
Which is why after our Target run this afternoon, Henry and I are getting a lot of ice cream.