I submitted your enrollment paperwork for daycare today, marking the start of your journey at “school” alongside your older sibling next week. Initially, I felt a pang of guilt for having your brother in school while I took my leave, but I quickly recognized how vital our one-on-one time has been. He enjoyed 20 months of undivided attention, and my life revolved entirely around him during the 10 weeks I was off after his birth. You, too, deserved this dedicated time, and I needed it to connect with you.
Your arrival was relatively smooth; we were discharged from the hospital within 48 hours, and I was back to running errands in my cozy pants in just a week. Unlike your brother, you were content to be laid down, allowing me to catch a few precious hours of sleep each night without constantly checking on you. (And let’s keep this between us, but I occasionally dozed off while holding you.) Breastfeeding was a breeze for us, in stark contrast to the early struggles I faced with your brother, which often included tears and calls to lactation consultants.
While juggling work emails and touching base with colleagues (even though my paid time off was fleeting), I compiled a maternity leave to-do list that included tasks like “organize closets” (completed!), “learn to cook” (I actually used the oven more than the microwave, so that’s a win), and “draft a will” (thank you, Uncle Mike, for your legal expertise). However, I also had an ambitious goal to “write a novel,” which, regrettably, remains unfinished.
What I didn’t prioritize was simply savoring my time with you. Perhaps I didn’t recognize the importance of this because my previous maternity leave was a whirlwind of sleepless nights and anxiety with your brother, or maybe my organized nature didn’t allow for such leisurely pursuits. Regardless, I regret overlooking this crucial task, and now it’s too late to revisit those early days.
In that first month, you mostly slept peacefully. I could have reclined and enjoyed our time together, but I didn’t allow myself that luxury—there were bathrooms to deep clean! Then, illness struck your big brother and kept him home, and I battled my own health issues, while you bravely tackled RSV. Our days were filled with both hospital visits and homebound sniffles, as we dealt with the trials of cold and flu season.
March arrived, bringing with it the end of our illness saga, and it hit me that I had less than four weeks before returning to work. I should have focused on tummy time and playful afternoons with you, but instead, I was preoccupied with work-related tasks, budgeting, and shopping for home improvements at places like Home Goods and Target.
Now, as I sit here with you on my lap, marveling at your bright, gummy smile, I feel an overwhelming rush of emotions. All I want is to cherish this moment with you, shake the rattle you’re so fascinated by, and read every book in your collection without a worry about work. Just you and me.
While I’m becoming more comfortable with leaving my to-do list unfinished, I can’t shake the anxiety of returning to work and leaving you in someone else’s care for the majority of the day. Just one week remains. One week to relish those sweet smiles, enjoy your warm cuddles as you drift off on my chest, and share beloved stories such as Brown Bear, Brown Bear and Guess How Much I Love You.
In the future, I plan to address how inadequate maternity leave is in our country and my belief that new mothers should receive at least six months of time off with their newborns. For now, I must apologize for not fully embracing our initial weeks together. I misinterpreted them as “free time” to tackle chores, failing to recognize that the most meaningful task during these past 11 weeks has been simply loving you.
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In summary, my maternity leave has been a blend of joy and regret as I navigated the challenges of motherhood. I wish I had prioritized our time together more, realizing that the true essence of this experience lies in connection and love.