Today, I submitted your daycare enrollment paperwork, and it’s officially time for you to join your older sibling at “school” next week. Initially, I felt a pang of guilt for sending your brother off while I was on leave. However, I quickly realized how vital our one-on-one time has been. He enjoyed my undivided attention for 20 months, and I was completely devoted to him during the 10 weeks I took off when he was born. You deserve that same special focus, and I needed this time to concentrate on you.
In the grand scheme, your arrival was relatively smooth. We were discharged from the hospital within 48 hours, and I was out running errands in comfy pants within a week. Unlike your brother, you were happy to be laid down, allowing me to catch a few precious hours of sleep each night without feeling the need to monitor every tiny breath you took. (And, between us, I may have dozed off with you in my arms more times than I’d care to admit!) Breastfeeding was also a breeze for us—I didn’t experience the agony and tears that accompanied my nursing journey with your brother, and I wasn’t constantly calling lactation consultants or attending support groups.
While juggling work emails (even though my paid time off was nearly depleted), I created a maternity leave checklist that included tasks like “organize closets” (check!), “learn to cook” (I actually used the oven more than the microwave, so that’s a win), “draft a will” (with Uncle Mike’s help, this was achieved), and “write a novel” (still a work in progress; some goals were perhaps a bit ambitious).
What I neglected to include was truly savoring my time with you. I’m not sure if it was because my previous maternity leave was a hazy blur of sleep deprivation and anxiety with your brother, or if my Type A nature simply doesn’t allow for such leisurely pursuits to make it onto a to-do list. Regardless, I fear I overlooked the most crucial task, and now time is slipping away.
You spent your first month mostly asleep, and I could have basked in those delightful snuggles all day, but instead, I filled my time with cleaning the bathrooms! Then, your brother caught a bug and was home from daycare, I battled sore throats and congestion, and on top of that, you caught RSV (this year’s cold and flu season was brutal). Between hospital visits—two of the scariest days of my life—and our quiet time at home, we didn’t exactly enjoy being a sick family.
After finishing your antibiotics, March arrived gently, taking with it the illnesses that had plagued us. Suddenly, I realized I had less than four weeks left before returning to work. I should have cherished afternoons filled with tummy time and play but instead was busy clearing my desk, organizing files, and creating a family budget. I spent hours pushing you through the aisles of Target and Home Goods, spending every dollar on our budget while decorating the house and organizing your and your brother’s closets.
Now, here I am, 11 weeks later, staring at a calendar that seems to be working against me. You’re lying on my lap, cooing with that big, gummy smile that’s bringing tears to my eyes (I might still be a bit hormonal). All I want is to stay in this moment with you, shake the rattle you’ve been tracking with your curious eyes, and read every storybook to you without a single thought about work or anything else. Just you.
While I’m ready to leave the unfinished to-do list behind and focus on you, I’m also filled with anxiety about returning to work, leaving you in the care of others for most of the day. Just one week left. One week to enjoy those gummy smiles, feel the warmth of your body as you nestle against me, and introduce you to classics like Brown Bear, Brown Bear and Guess How Much I Love You.
One day, I’ll delve into the inadequacies of maternity leave in our country and advocate for the need for new mothers to receive six months of leave with their babies. But for now, I apologize for not fully embracing our early weeks together. I mistook them for “free time” to tackle chores when it’s clear that the only task that mattered these past 11 weeks was loving you.
In conclusion, as I prepare to return to work, I realize that the most important moments with you can never be reclaimed. I hope to savor every last second of our time together in this final week.
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