There are few pleasures in life I find more warm and fuzzy than waking up to my smiling baby. On the weekends, mornings with him are just brilliant, when the day is new and stretched out before us and I don't have to think about work for even a second. But weekday mornings are a different story altogether. Inevitably, I always end up rushing to get myself out the door in true hot mess fashion (ie: wet hair, no makeup...pretty girl). I'm careful to tiptoe around so I don't wake the baby, and if I do, Hubby has implored me not to engage him. I respect his wishes, him being the primary caretaker and all (in addition to working nights and weekends), but it's never easy to just walk away.
On a good morning, I'll get myself smoothly out the door after watching half an episode of "Cheers" while pumping some breastmilk. On a *not* so good morning, I'll accidentally wake my son up while closing my sock drawer, or stepping on Sophie the giraffe's squeaky head. If he spots me, naturally he'll want to come to me, and when I have to go, he'll cry. Leaving for work while my son is crying for me is not one of my favorite things. In the spirit of full disclosure, and at the risk of sounding completely melodramatic, it breaks my heart, and makes me feel as if a little part of me is dying inside. What's that Sondheim song that always used to give me a belly ache? Every day a little death...
On a shitty day, I worry that I'm taking up residence in Bittersville. Sure, I know tons of mothers do it these days, but I find that it doesn't make it any easier. Especially when I don't really have anyone to talk to about it. I'm smiley by nature, too, so nobody at work would ever suspect I was struggling unless they asked.
I call my mother every morning as soon as I shut my front door. She expects these calls, will even wait to take her morning shower until she hears from me, but on mornings when my baby is crying for me, I'm not always the most sunny conversationalist. I pretty much suck. "That's okay," she assures me, "I want you to vent to me."
Aside from dumping my karmic frustrations on my supportive mother, I'm careful not to allow myself too much time to dwell on these things. I try to count my blessings, and if I can just get myself to turn my face toward the sun (literally and figuratively speaking), I can usually keep my chin up. And a morning like today helps. I'd turned on the video monitor (we are sleep sharing these days, ie: William sleeps in our bed) and as I was pumping, I saw my baby's head pop up on the screen, his eyes as big as half dollars. He was awake! And he was practicing blowing raspberries. And I watched as he patted Hubby's face, grabbed the scruff on his chin, stuck a skinny finger up his Dada's nose, blew raspberries into his face...
It was a weekday and I was getting to watch my baby wake up. The fact that this was exactly what I'd been wishing for was not lost on me. This was a little gift, and I had to recognize it as such. I even got to snuggle him for a bit before leaving for work, and today he didn't cry when I left, at least not while I was within earshot.
I walk the line between being fiercely optimistic that some cosmic shift is about to happen that would allow me to be home more with my baby, and stifling a nagging fear that maybe I'm just deluding myself. That maybe I'll always spend more hours at work than at home. That sort of self-defeating talk usually pops into my brain when I'm experiencing fatigue, whether it be psychic or physical. When my emotional defenses are down, havoc ensues. Also, last month we came very close to being able to swap roles, Hubby and me, but our hopes morphed into a giant setback, though we tried to spin it otherwise. Another time. Que sera.
For the most part, I continue to barrel through, my faith propelling me forward, beckoning me to open my heart and turn my frown upside down. What else can I do, really? I count my blessings, the million ordinary, extraordinary, miraculous, so-cute-that-they're-heartbreaking blessings that season my life these days. My goal is to find the balance to be open to receiving what I'm yearning for in my heart of hearts, and in the meantime to remain grateful for the life we're living now. For our jobs, for my extended family, for my amazing Hubby, for our spectacular little son. Still, I've got to believe there is something better out there for us. Leaving that baby every day to come to work is a daily struggle. But mornings like today certainly help. xoxo
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