Three months ago, I was enjoying what I had aptly titled My Last Day Of Freedom Ever.
I worked out. I ran some errands. I did some final cleaning. I went out to lunch with Mom at Bacio which is where early labor started. I napped. And that was it.
My labor was 36 hours from start to finish with 31 of those at the hospital. I had an epidural that stopped working on half of my body after like…20 hours so that was pretty exciting. I pushed for two hours and Critter was pretty hell-bent on never coming out, but then he did. There you have it, birth story in a bottle. Save the Kleenex for another time.
I remember taking a freezing walk with Critter around our neighborhood in early February and thinking to myself that when we finally had green grass and were starting to see leaves on the trees, we would have made it. It is well and truly Spring now.
I have a baby who is happy as hell 90% of the time and Extremely Ticked for the other 10%. His night sleep continues to improve but of course I don’t think we’ll know what it’s like to truly feel rested for another few months. He is starting to recognize the three songs I have been singing to him each day for the last two months and is So Jazzed About Those. He is The Happiest with Marcus and I, but still seems to feel that we respond too slowly for his liking at least 50% of the time. In short, we have nothing figured out. But I do have approximately 50 pictures on my iPhone of Critter napping on me. So that’s something!
For the last 12 weeks, with very very few exceptions, I have lived through Groundhog Day and have done The Exact Same Thing 24/7 without interruption. It has absolutely been the most important, difficult work of my life. It has also been the most bewilderingly monotonous work of my life. Weeks have crept-flown by at an alarming rate and suddenly here we are.
Today, I am going back to work. I never really understood what people meant when they said “I’m a better mother because I work.” I think I get it now. I need to wear adult clothes, and my hair down, and make-up, and talk to other people about Things That Have Nothing To Do With My Child. I need to think critically. About stuff.
It will be so strange to go back to a place where everything from my “old” life has stayed the same, while everything about my life today is different. And yet this same-different will be good. It is time.