Last night I got him to laugh for the first time. Tomorrow he turns 3 months old and starts daycare. Our life as we’ve known it together changes and I’m feeling all of this – the bad and the good – straight to my core. Wishing for more time and longing for a return of myself as something other than a rocking and feeding machine.
Also, feeling so angry that families have to do this all on our own in this country. We’re raising the fucking future and we’re doing it alone. I’m privileged and lucky to have had this but now I’m told I’ve “exhausted my time”. Exhausted is right. I’m tired and fragile and somehow on Wednesday I will divide myself in two – the work me and the mom me. Is there enough me to go around?
I need this. He needs this. We need this. It doesn’t stop the heartbreak, the worry, the longing. How do I stop time today? How do I soak up enough squishy baby-ness to give me the strength to turn around and walk out a door without him in my arms? How do I enjoy a day to myself without running into the door I just left and scooping him up against my heart?
Excuse me if I burst into tears today. Excuse me if I drift away in my mind to a life that would give me more time with my baby and still allow me freedom to be something other than a mother all day. How can I have life both ways?
Each day will get better. We’ll settle into a new routine. A few months from now I can tell another mother approaching the end of her leave that it will be okay, the baby is thriving and learning, and I found a better me for everyone. Right now that life is foggy.
I’ll sit here soaking up the baby-ness and wiping tears today. Fog lifts. It will be okay and it’s all right if it’s not right now.