Domestic Engineering

After two and a half weeks, you'd think I'd start to get used to this SAHM thing. On the contrary; I'm still swimming in the river known as Denial.

I often feel like I'm on vacation and at any moment, I'm going to be yanked back into the harsh world of continuous deadlines, high-pressure projects and ever-increasing demands. I find myself aimlessly refreshing my email, simply out of habit. I've had about 15-20 hours worth of billable work since I've made the switch from full-time to freelance but the vast majority of my projects have simmered down. I just don't know what to do with myself now that the work stress has been all but eliminated. I'm so used to being balls-to-the-wall, can't-find-time-to-pee-or-eat, insanely busy that I am dumbfounded to find downtime exists. I can actually shower, brush my teeth and eat lunch daily. A fresh, homemade lunch - no fast food crapola. I can visit friends (during the week - gasp!) and have playdates. I don't have to cherry pick which tasks/activities I have time for. It's amazing. Even my IBS seems to have magically resolved itself, which leads me to believe it has been stress-related all along. You're welcome for the oversharing. *wink*

I love how I can design my own day and not feel limited by the clock. I can relax. Sure, chasing after a mobile 8.5 month old is not exactly a day at the spa but it is much more enriching than drilling out media plans.

I still have my "oh shit!" moments where I wonder if I'm doing the right thing and how it will affect our family in the long run. Can we honestly afford to sacrifice my entire income contribution? But I try not to let the pessimism bog me down. When I feel the negative thoughts brewing, I force myself to consider the good I'm doing for and all the ways I am still useful as a member of the family and community. It may sound like the kind of self-help visualization propaganda as seen on TV but it really does help take the edge off and help me to stay grounded.

I've seen Nate smile more in the past couple of weeks than I think I have in his entire lifespan. I get the distinct feeling that he feels much more content and secure to have me home with him 24/7. He hasn't been nearly as cranky as he used to be (aside from a bit of teething - nothing that Hyland's teething tablets couldn't handle). He's almost a different baby. That, or I'm just seeing a side of him that I haven't noticed before. This alone makes me question my decision less and less. The benefits are obvious.

I've been able to really focus on Nate and meeting his needs. Instead of working for unappreciative, undeserving clients, I can devote my time to being the best mom I can be for my son. I feel like we've bonded all over again.

I can do modified CIO at night without feeling guilty that he could be craving more personal interaction. Last night, I put him down at 730pm without a problem. He woke at 1030pm and I nursed him. He woke at midnight fussing but fell back asleep within a half an hour. I heard nary a peep from him until 3am, when I nursed him again. He slept until 730am when we both woke for the day. Total: 2 night wakings. Progress. All due to consistency. I've traded exhaustion for determination and it is paying off.

I can easily read his signs for naptime and ensure he gets his two essential naps a day. One in mid-morning and one in mid-afternoon. I can usually preempt the crankiness and put him in his swing after the first yawn, where he naps peacefully for 1-1.5 hours. Granted, the swing can just barely swing his heavy ass. But until nighttime sleep is under control, I will not be disturbing the nap routine.

I can allot more time to practicing with solids. Since the Great Sweet Potato Discovery of 2009, Nate will now eat two 2 oz. meals per day. A few times I've given an early morning meal but I only offer this if he seems dissatisfied after nursing on both sides. He generally gets 1/2 jar Stage 2 fruit for brunch and 1/2 jar Stage 2 veggie, meat or pasta in the evening along with a handful of puffs at each sitting. It's been a challenge and I still rely heavily on singing songs and making faces to get the job done. But ultimately, I'm just thrilled that he is open to the idea of swallowing more than breastmilk. Maybe - just maybe - I will be able to start weaning upon reaching my goal at one year. I was beginning to think I'd be breastfeeding until he was two. There is hope for us yet.

We have lots of playtime together and I rotate toys on a daily basis so he doesn't grow bored. I alternate between being the showman and the passive observer. I demonstrate but then allow him to follow suit. I watch him as he experiments and moves from one thing to the next. I can see the hamster wheel turning in his noggin as he tries to learn how to operate certain toys or to mimic my actions. He loves anything with lights and sounds but when my eardrums need a break from the repetitive refrains, there are also several simple toys that hold his attention.

I know I may get flamed for this but we also watch TV together. We aren't glued to the boob tube by any means. We enjoy the outdoors when the weather is nice and I certainly don't rely on it as a babysitter. But he loves the visual and audio combination so I'll turn on Nickelodeon, Disney or MPT to provide some background noise. Right now, his favorites are Dora the Explorer, Spongebob, Sesame Street (cutest thing - he smiles and laughs at loud whenever Elmo appears), and Backyardigans. I have to say that many of the shows nowadays have an element of adult entertainment so I'm not constantly searching for a sharp object to gouge my eyes out. My particular favorites are Back at the Barnyard, Olivia and iCarly. Yes, I probably should be watching soap operas and court shows but I admit it's nice to tap into my childish side now and again.

All in all, things appear to be working out well so far on the SAHM front. I am taking to it like a fish to water. Except the housework and cooking. Okay, so I'm no June Cleaver. I've never been great at managing more than dishwashing and laundry in a day. But I'm slowly improving in this department.

I knew all along my heart belonged at home with my son. The ability to surrender to this desire seems too good to be true.

The Only Constant in Life is Change

"We can no longer accomodate your current schedule. The company is making some exciting changes as a result of our growth. Unfortunately, telecommuting will no longer be an option. We would prefer if you could work full-time in the office 5 days per week but will accomodate at least 3 days per week in the office. If you choose to go part-time however, your health insurance, vacation/sick time, 401K and other benefits will be withdrawn."

I nodded in compliance, taking in each word and letting its meaning swirl around in my head. By the end of the meeting, the blabber began to resemble the incoherent voice of the teachers of the Pea.nuts comics. Wa Wah Wa Wah Wah Wah.

Although I was caught off-guard, I was not angry. I was not emotional. I was surprisingly at peace.

I have been struggling with balancing work and motherhood for months. Notably ever since the New Year with our company restructuring. My workload tripled from what it had been in 2008. Of course, my pay remained the same. While my job performance has not been lacking - I honestly work harder now than I ever have before - I spend most of my days feeling like a complete and utter failure. I sit Nate down on his playmat surrounded by a lovely array of toys, hoping that would make up for our lack of personal interaction while I worked on media plans and made phone calls. As he becomes more and more mobile, I am simply unable to give him the attention he craves. Case in point: one day, I put Nate down so I could free up both hands to work on a project with a tight deadline. I peeked out of my peripheral vision as he rolled across the floor over to my pump bag. I saw he was sucking on the strap. I didn't think much of it and continued hammering out my proposal. Another minute passed and I looked up to find him chewing the cardboard box of zwieback toast that had fallen out of the bag. I rushed over to find pieces of cardboard scattered on the carpet. I checked his mouth and did not see any remnants but that incident forever haunts me as one of my many "bad momma" moments. Several times, I found myself working at 11pm just to feel like I could get ahead for the next day. I am barely keeping my head above water in the sea of work.

I knew executive management wanted me to come into the office more but I didn't have a solution better than my current arrangement. So, I procrastinated. This meeting was the ultimatum I needed to make a move. My kick in the pants.

After discussing the idea ad nauseum with DH, we decided it was not in our family's best interest to stick Nate in full-time daycare. We vowed from the beginning that we didn't want to bend our family around our jobs so we were staying true to our beliefs. We also discussed the possibility of me working part-time (3 days/week) and decided that the bulk of my salary would basically be paying for childcare. Plus, DH would have to pick up the benefits anyway. Would it really be worth it? After much consideration, we decided no.

I found some side work for DH shortly after our move doing networking and tech support in the evenings and on weekends. He is also working on expanding his own consulting business, which has been in a bit of a lull lately. All of this is sporadic right now, mind you - certainly not matching my monthly contribution - but is looking promising as he has several partnerships in the pipeline. He wants me to use my marketing and advertising talent skills to help get it off the ground.

SAHM-land, here I come. On Monday, I will be putting in my two-weeks notice. My last day of being a working mom will be March 27, 2009.

I am excited yet scared. I've always been a go-getter. Determined. Motivated. I haven't NOT worked since I was 16 years old. I worked full-time and went to school full-time (12+ credits) simulatenously while maintaining a 3.91 GPA so that should speak to my willfulness. It will be a welcome change to have more solo time dedicated to Nate and the housework I've neglected for years. To focus on things in which I am personally vested.

But on the heels of my enthusiasm, I am scared about longevity. I worry about how this employment gap will affect my career opportunities in the future. I worry about making sure I get the adult interaction I need to be fulfilled. I worry about DH burning out from working two jobs and how it could affect our marriage. Would he resent me? But most of all, I'm concerned about our finances. We have enough savings to last us for months but what if DH's side business doesn't live up to our expectations? What in God's name will we do? Maybe I could go back to school or get a home daycare license. Perhaps learn a new trade like crochet or crafts (I did all of my wedding invitations, programs and favors myself!) and start my own little business. Worst case, I guess I could waitress or work retail. Not the greatest option considering my credentials and gargantuan student loans, but it would pay the bills. I would do it for the greater good of my family. They will always come above all else.

If everything works out, as I am hoping and praying, we can even work on TTC #2 this winter without wondering how to afford childcare x 2. Of course, we'll need to ensure our stability before diving in headfirst. But being a SAHM could make family planning more simplistic. See, there is simplicity hidden in the complexity if I dig deep enough.

I'm not entirely sure if this is the right decision. Things could end up being really really good or really really bad. We could end up looking back on this chapter of our lives as being one of the happiest times or being a pennypinching, stressful time we beg to forget. There's really no way to foresee how this will turn out.

I'm putting my faith in the man upstairs. Life as we know it is about to change forever.

Important Bits 'O Info

1. DH got a job offer.

2. With my company.

3. He has accepted.

Only slightly more money. No financial freedom by any means. But it will be a change in atmosphere, which is considered imperative at this current point in time. And he will still be allowed one day a week to telecommute.

His boss was not surprised in the least. He patted DH on the back and wished him well. Of course, there were no counteroffers made. No begging or pleading to stay. Just a request to extend his employment beyond the two-week courtesy. Take and take with no give until the bitter end.

DH, however, has insisted his last day will be November 21st. Standing firm. After all, they did cut his paternity leave short. Time with our newborn son that he'll never get back. Enough is enough.

Shall he endure endless ridicule over the fact that his wife found him a job? Have I threatened his masculinity? Pilfered his testosterone? Oh well. Is it wrong I have no sympathy regarding gender bias?

You may be wondering how I feel about sharing my work space with my husband. I've deliberated on the issue. My disposition at work and at home differ slightly. I'm much more Type-A at work. A perfectionist. Organized. Focused. At home, I am relaxed. At ease. A bit disheveled, but without much care. I've never really had to share both sides of myself with him before. Sure, he's seen both escape from my grip from time to time. But he's never been involved with my multiple personalities on a daily basis. Would he change his perception of me? Would I see a side of him I wish he hadn't revealed?

My job was my time. I liked having my separate interests. My independent relationships. A career all to myself. Selfish as that may be. I had to delve into my childhood lessons library to find the will to share.

But I had an epiphany. I am not and I will continue not to be defined by my spouse. I am a unique entity. I have proven my talent, sharpened my skills and laid the foundation of my position. My accomplishments could never be compromised or challenged unless it were my doing.

We work in vastly different fields - he in IT and I in marketing. While we will share space in the infinite land of the cube farm, we will be working far enough apart not to impede one other. His projects will not intercede mine and vice versa. And since I will only be in the office twice a week, we may only cross each other during company meetings or on our ways to the restroom or to the water cooler or coffee maker.

I did spoil the fun by reminding him there will be absolutely no quickies in the supply closet. Not that it was ever a serious consideration, but I'm sure his weiner would have no qualms about it should we obtain unfettered access with no consequence.

All in all, we are very happy and much more secure.

Just ask me if I still feel that way in 3 weeks after I've gotten a healthy dose of reality.

Seeing the Light

First of all, a great big virtual bear hug to everyone who left comments and words of encouragement. Life is a series of peaks and valleys and well...Wednesday was a low point emotionally. While it's comforting to know I'm not alone, I'm saddened that others are suffering from similar atrocities.

Luckily, it looks like the rainclouds are retreating.

DH had his fateful meeting with his boss yesterday. While we were were hesitant to set expectations prior to the meeting, the resulting occurrences proved to be fortuitous.

His boss apologized (!) for several of his actions, including reaming DH for sending an inaccurate spreadsheet to a client when he was not even responsible and for questioning DH's skills. After a lengthy discussion, his boss reinstated his Thursday remote day. I don't think I have to express how exonerated we felt upon receiving this news.

So, in short, his job is NOT in immediate danger as we previously suspected. As a matter of fact, his boss deemed it senseless that we interpreted his ill-tempered comments as a imperilment.

Yeah, I guess we did jump the gun when he handed DH his ass on a platter. After hearing that he had lost confidence in his abilities, I guess any other human being would have concluded that their job was infallible. Silly us.

While Dr. Jekyll appears to be substituting at the moment, it is only a matter of time before Mr. Hyde returns to instigate trouble. So, DH's employment search will continue. There just won't be the same sense of urgency that plagued us before. Taking the enormous pressure off may actually help DH to make a lucid, gratifying decision. He can be more selective about which direction he chooses. Relocation may still be a possibility but it can be done on our terms rather than as an act of desperation.

DH's malaise has receded. I am feeling much more whole again. Just in time for the weekend. We're toying with the idea of driving to PA to see the fall foliage. But even if we chicken out at the last minute and stay homebodies, it will be a retreat from this dreadful week.

State of Uncertainty

I wasn't planning on moving so suddenly but it seems I've been thrust into another state. An anxiety-ridden state of doubt and worry.

Things are not going so swell at DH's job. I've had an inkling for over a month that things were going downhill. But you know how it is. You ignore it. Or you push it to the back of your mind. You're too frightened of the possibility that the breadwinning career is now in jeopardy. You hope for the best and try to be optimistic. You convince yourself things will get better. So you wait until reality smacks you in the forehead and you are forced to take action.

That time is upon us.

I'd say it all started around the time Nate was born, coincidentally. Before our little man arrived, DH was easily working 60 hours a week. He would work his daily weekday shift but also here and there on weeknights and weekends. He's a software engineer by trade so naturally, I've gotten used to sharing my husband with another woman named Toshiba. I've known about the affair for years and have come to accept that it will never change. And surprisingly, I'm okay with the menage a trois.

In the latter days of my pregnancy, DH had asked for 2 weeks vacation upon Nate's birth, which was approved by his boss. He also negotiated telecommuniting 1 day a week. This was to be our insurance policy to supplement my WAH schedule. Together with my mother, we could alternate childcare responsibilities, thus avoiding daycare. He had no need to cash in on this day until Nate was born so we decided he would only start taking this day when my maternity leave ended and it was absolutely necessary.

We had it all planned out.

However, after less than 1 week into his paternity leave, his boss asked demanded him to come back. DH reluctantly agreed. I was not pleased, as I had counted on this parenthood thing to be a collaborative effort for those couple of weeks while I recovered physically. But in the interest of avoiding confrontation, I became a pacifist. Que sera sera.

As the end of my maternity leave drew closer, DH went to his boss to cash in on his telecommuting day. To his shock, his boss said they had implemented a new policy that did not encourage working from home. How convenient. His boss told him that he wasn't going to pay him to do "daddy day care". After DH politely reminded him that it was negotiated prior to this new, unwritten policy - and also duly noted that other employees worked remotely with no hassle - he agreed to honor their agreement.

My antenna went up but I didn't want to worry myself needlessly. Not to be cliche, but men aren't typically as sympathetic to childcare arrangements so I figured DH would just need to prove him it could work. I reasoned that even if DH lost a few hours of productivity on his day at home, he worked plenty of hours otherwise so it wouldn't be too detrimental.

When Nate was about 5 or 6 weeks old, the company underwent some changes to their processes and as a result, DH's title changed from Senior Software Engineer to Technical Manager. This was a fancy way of saying that instead of devoting himself solely to programming, which is his forte, he would have the bonus role of project manager. Two jobs in one with no pay increase. Yipee. Also, he would still have to complete his programming tasks in the same time frame as before, despite the added responsibilities.

Needless to say, DH started to slip. He had a mountain of work to do and he was already working as much as he could without going certifiably insane. He started missing deadlines and became short with co-workers who demanded even more of his precious time. Clients were adding more and more requirements to their list of needs and were getting angry when their projects were not as far along as they should have been. DH kept striding forward - always the "yes" man. He kept assuring everyone he could catch up, not realizing that he was in over his head. He's human after all and has his limits. But his masculinity perceived this limitation as weakness.

On Thursdays, DH's lone telecommuting day, he found it hard to balance fatherhood and his insurmountable workload. Nate would fuss as babies do and DH would take time to soothe him, only to come back to a shitstorm from his boss about how they tried to reach him via IM for an hour (you couldn't pick up the phone?) and if he is continually unavailable, this day would be torn away from him.

DH tried to finally speak up to his boss and let him know how burnt out he was, pleading with him to develop a solution. But his boss was basically too busy to deal with it and dismissed him with little more than "work it out".

When DH came back to work Monday after his trip to Atlanta, his boss told him that calling out on Friday was unprofessional. Shame we didn't get his aunt to call a few weeks ago to give them advanced notice of her death.

All of these little things have snowballed into a huge point of contention. DH's boss took away his projects and put him on menial tasks, telling him that he is no longer confident in his abilities. He also told DH he can no longer work remotely on Thursdays - as if that is the reason behind DH's lackluster performance - and demanded a meeting with him to discuss his future with the company. His boss made it a point to say that there will be no bargaining and "it will not turn into an argument like you like to do." Granted, DH can be a little stubborn and defensive. He's an introvert and has to work with a variety of personalities. He blows up sometimes, despite his best efforts to keep his attitude in check. But who hasn't?

It just seems like they have unreal expectations of him and want to make his life unbearable so he will quit. After all, they're the kind of cheap bastards that would not fire someone just so they didn't have to pay unemployment.

DH is depressed and humiliated. He feels as if everyone there is pitying him. Secretly knowing he's about to get canned.

He's taken the initiative and sent out 12 resumes, a few of which called him back within 24 hours. I guess the M.S. from John's Hopkins really helps. So all hope is not lost. But our future is unclear. What if he does get let go? We only have enough of a safety net to make it 2 months, maybe 3, without his income. And that is supposed to be our savings for downpayment on a house. What if he gets a job offer in another state? What if we have to relocate? What will come of the career I've worked so hard to attain? What in the hell are we going to do on Thursdays now? Who will watch Nate? I can't ask my boss for one more day when I'm already at home more than I'm in the office.

I feel things spinning out of control. I see my DH hanging by a thread and I'm trying to hold him up while fulfilling my own job responsibilities and maintaining my own emotions. Not to mention trying to keep my son happy, which takes up the majority of my days as it is. I was spreading myself thin as it was with my time and attention and now I simply feel inadequate.

I know I have to be the strong one right now but it is so hard. I may look like a stone casing on the outside and that I have it all together. But I feel like a glass vase with a hairline crack - the slightest mishandling could break me.

Hell Week

So, I've officially completed Hell Week. No, I'm not a Navy Seal. But my first full-time week back to work has left me in a haze.

Under normal circumstances, I would easily be able to manage everything on my plate. After all, I know my job like the back of my hand. Normally, it would be second nature for me to put out fires and correct mistakes. But after 9 weeks of looking at nothing but poopy diapers and my newfound boobies, the paperwork and media requests have become overwhelming. I am unsure where to start with the list of tasks ahead of me and so I space out. I find myself easily distracted whether in the office or at home. It's as if I've acquired ADD and any shiny object diverts my attention. My heart is at home and my head tries to follow but I keep it on a short leash. I have no choice but to focus and take one thing at a time. Easier said than done, but I need to prioritize. After all, the bills have to get paid somehow and I'd prefer to do it without taking my clothes off. Especially with all the momma flab. Oh, and my morals and values of course.

On Monday, from the minute I awoke, I was on a mission. I frantically cleaned all the bottles in the house by hand and sterilized them. I wrote out detailed instructions for my mother on how and when to prepare the bottles, which breastmilk containers to use and how much at each feeding, how to use our backup formula if she should run out of breastmilk, where to find bibs, burp cloths, etc., how to work his numerous soothing contraptions, as well as a list of numbers to contact me or DH should something go awry. Yes, I became THAT mother. The overly paranoid, protective one. After all, it's not like my mother raised two children. I reasoned to myself that Nate is different. He is a high needs baby (I know, which baby isn't? - but tell that to me in my hysteria) and she needs to be adequately prepared for a day alone with him.

I decided to nurse him before I left and as I was burping him, he gave me a big smile and even a hint of a laugh. It brought out the waterworks I was determined to hide. Again, I had to walk out the door without kissing him. Just trusting that all would be fine. I hated leaving him when he was in such a good mood but I reminded myself I would be seeing him in just a few hours, agonizing as they may be.

Of course, the day went off without a hitch, despite my nightmarish visions of calamity. I called to check in at lunchtime and he had just woken up from a nap. He didn't eat much over the day (about 7-8 oz. total in 9 hours) but I was just happy he didn't flat out refuse. And we also didn't have to resort to formula! When I came home, he was asleep in his swing, so content. I breathed a sigh of relief.

Tuesday and Wednesday were remote days. It was difficult to plan phone calls around unpredictable nap times and to type one-handed while Nate was on the boob but we somehow got through it. I definitely felt moments of guilt when he would cry and it would take me a few minutes to finish up what I was working on to come to his rescue. Or when he would look at me with sheer frustration as I tried to nurse him and type simultaneously, like "this is uncomfortable mommy!" Or when I would look down at him in his bouncer (which I'm pushing with my foot as I type so as to get more than 5 minutes use out of it) and he would be staring back up at me as if to say, "pay attention to me, mommy!" It's so hard because while I want Nate to always come first, there will inevitably be times in which tending to his needs will be delayed. Something's gotta give. Hence, the impending guilt and feelings of selfishness.

I wish I were like that octopus in that air freshener commercial so I could have 8 free arms to cook, clean, work and take care of my baby. Alas, I only have 2 and I have to do the best I can. Even if my best isn't good enough according to my standards. I am a bit of a perfectionist so I want to excel at the mommy thing and the career thing. My fear is that I'll be subpar at both. And I really really don't want to fail at either. Talk about pressure.

After two days of trying to balance the scales of justice, I was honestly ready for a mental break. Working in the office is hardly guilt-free but I don't have the added stress of watching my baby stare at me with beautiful, big puppy dog eyes and pouty lips as I put together media plans. I don't have to peer at the clock as I hold him in my arms. I don't have to apologize profusely for not being responsive enough. Nothing makes me feel more helpless.

Thursday was Daddy Day and again, I woke up with a sense of mania - preparing bottles, organizing toys, strategically placing burp cloths and blankets throughout the aparment. While I trust DH wholeheartedly, I sometimes worry about him being alone with Nate for extended periods of time. He doesn't have as much patience as I do for the crying and battle of the wills. He often raises the white flag as if he's under duress and hands him off to me during the witching hour. So naturally, I was afraid of what it would be like when I wasn't there to relieve him. But, like Monday, it went better than I expected. He ate a little more for Daddy than Grandma over the course of the day (about 10 oz.) but still not as much as he does from me. No surprise there. When I came home, he was chillin' on Daddy's lap, listening to the sounds of Baby Vivaldi while intently watching DH code. We had success.

Friday was another remote day and I felt refreshed and ready to tackle the tasks at hand. There was light at the end of the tunnel. If I could make it through today, we could have 2 whole days together with no interruptions. That proved to be enough motivation to get me through those final 8 hours and through the ribbon to the finish line. *key Chariots of Fire soundtrack*

The bright side of Hell Week is that it has made me feel more at ease leaving Nate. I still get sad and sometimes the tears still flow - or least threaten to - when the clock strikes 830am and it's time to leave. That's just the momma in me. But I know that I'll come home and he'll still be in one piece.

It has made me realize that it doesn't make me a bad mother to make the most of my time away. I can *gasp* enjoy myself and indulge in a cup of coffee and adult interaction and conversation. All the while knowing my boy is in good hands. It's a nice thought but I don't flatter myself that he even notices a vacancy in our residence those 2 days per week. As long as he's fed that is.

But best of all, it makes me cherish my time with Nate so much more. Those first few seconds when I step through the doorway and see his face are indescribable.

I Will Survive

C'mon...you know you were singing the gay-riffic disco tune when you read the title. Or at least humming it. Admit it.

Anyway, since I am writing, you can probably assume I survived my first day back at work. Yes, it was only 4.5 hours instead of my usual 8, but you have to crawl before you can walk.

You would've been proud. I only cried a little on my way out the door, as I went to kiss my boys goodbye. My husband told me not to cry and it would be okay - which only emphasized my anxiety. Nate was dozing off in his swing with the tender orchestration of Canon in D playing in the background. I couldn't even bring myself to kiss him goodbye, as the tears started rolling. I just had to walk out the door and take a deep breath. Concentrate. Just a few hours, I repeated to myself. You can do this. Nate is safe with Daddy and will be well taken care of. Just relax. Go with it.

I drove to work and cranked up the radio, singing along to jams that would distract me. When I pulled into the parking lot and turned off the ignition, I felt the the tears sting behind my eyes, begging to flow. But I squeezed them back, pretending to be strong. I repeated my earlier inner monologue to prepare myself mentally for the undertaking. I put on my glasses, took another deep breath, and walked briskly into the office. The surroundings seemed eerily familiar. Everything as it was before I left. Some things never change, I said to myself. It was amazing that I had a major life-altering event and yet for everyone else, it has been business as usual. And suddenly I felt at ease.

Everyone greeted me with a hug and asked me how I was feeling. The women complimented me on how good I looked for just having a baby. They inquired about Nate and of course, I gushed, as any proud momma would. We probably spent a good 30-45 minutes shooting the breeze. I actually felt good. A surge of confidence swept over me. I can do this.

I had a brief meeting with my boss in which she gave me the scoop on everything that had occurred over the past two months. I was praised for how organized I had left my files. Apparently, things had been quite hectic but had now become manageable. To my delight, I'm not going to be slammed upon my reentry. I have a gentle reintroduction into the working world.

I sat at my desk, and felt a tinge of sadness that my leave was officially over. But I quickly recovered and shifted into business mode. I had about 85 emails to sort through and I just dove in head first. I surprised myself at how much I remembered and how easily my routine came back to me. I had fleeting thoughts about Nate throughout the day and I pictured his sweet face as I pumped. I missed him intensely but at the same time, that desire to see him and hold him motivated me to push on. Before I knew it, it was time to go home. After saying my goodbyes (and enduring jabs from my co-workers as to whether I would stay true to my word and come back on Monday), the first thing I did was pull out my cell and call the hubby. Everything was perfectly fine. My little oinker had even eaten 10 ounces in my 5 hour absence. From a bottle!

I grinned as I drove home. I did it. I made it through my first day. If I can get through a half day, I can surely make it through a whole one. Right? Right?

And believe me, as soon as I opened the door, I raced in, picked up my boy and held him so close. He gave me a big toothless smile and it lit me up inside. It made everything worth it (even if he only wanted me for my boobs. Men.).

Distance - even 20 miles - sure does make the make the heart grow fonder.

Back to Work Blues

Okay, I know I said this would be a Wordless Wednesday, but I lied. I need to get some things off my chest. I need girl talk. It'd be much more fun if we could all go out for pedicures and watch Sex and the City reruns while we vent but I'll have to settle for the online version.

You can probably tell from the title of this post that I will need some cheese with my whine. So, let's sit back with our Brie and crackers while we you sip your finest Pinot Grigio. Here goes.

I realize how fortunate I am to have negotiated the flexible, gradual-return-to-the-land-of-the-living schedule that I have. Working 3 days from home and 2 days in the office. My mom and DH will cover the 2 days I will be away so we can avoid daycare. Nate will be left in the best possible hands with people I trust dearly. And I won't have to sacrifice my career or put our family in financial ruin.

Sounds like gravy, right? So, what's my major malfunction?

Mentally, I am just not ready to go back to work. I love my job. I love my boss. I love my co-workers. I love the people I work with. It's the perfect job. I'm. just. not. ready.

I've technically been working the past 7.5 weeks but in a totally different capacity. I'm not utilizing my college degree or making those gargantuan student loans worthwhile. Instead, I'm relying on instinct and feedback. I'm not developing media plans for total strangers clients. I've been a caretaker to my darling son. And I can't think of any more important job. Everything else seems so trite or menial compared to this new position I've acquired.

I've enjoyed being a SAHM. I don't have dinner on the table every night when DH comes home and our 3BR/2BA apartment is in complete disarray. Dishes in the sink. Toys strewn across the floor. Laundry pouring out of the hamper. I'm certainly no 1950's housewife. But I could care less. I adore spending all my time with Nate. Catering to his every need - even if I'm flustered because I don't know what that need may be. Being there for his first milestones - holding his head up, batting and kicking toys, smiling, cooing. We've just begun recognizing a routine amidst the chaos and now I'm about to switch it up again.

It's a cocktail: half guilt and half sadness, sprinkled with a little fear. I wish I could quit and stay at home full-time. We may even be able to swing it on DH's salary alone. But we couldn't afford the same lifestyle. We'd have to penny pinch and live paycheck to paycheck. And I don't want that for our family. I don't want to put the sole financial burden on my husband if I can contribute. Giving up my job would put us further away from buying a home, especially in this shitty economy. I want to give my son the world and I simply can't do that if I'm unemployed.

I worked so hard to put myself through college (while working full-time) and graduated summa cum laude prior to getting a great job as a senior media buyer in advertising, a notoriously tough field to break into. If I give it up now, when I'm young and near my peak, it will only be that much harder should I try to get back in later in life. I've been in the water for a while now and it is warm and comfortable. If I get out, the water will chill and it will be really difficult to jump back in. A resume gap will stick out like a sore thumb to employers. And unfortunately, despite the feminist movement, the glass ceiling still exists. Few advertising execs understand the need to put a career on hold. Especially if I plan on having more children (which we hope to). As a woman who wants both a family and a career, I have to think about these things. I can't base my decision on emotions alone - as much as I'd like to.

I look at Nate and I cry because I realize I can't always be there for him - this is the first step in letting go. Because I'm going to miss our time alone together and, most likely, it will never be this way again. Because I'm worried our bond will not be as strong once I add work into the mix. Yes, I'll be home 3 days a week. But I won't be able to devote all of my time to Nate. I will have to prioritize my time and put in my 40 hours. There will be times Nate will come second. And it is hard to fathom that. I feel guilty that I won't be able to tend to his every need. And I'm scared that I won't be able to excel at both. I'm scared I may have lost the passion that made me so desirable to my employer because I have something else to be passionate about. I'm scared I may not be able to be the overachiever I've always been when it comes to this.

I hate that it all comes down to money in the end. I wish I could get paid in smiles and hugs.

Tomorrow is my first day back at the office - just for a few hours so my boss can brief me on what's been going on in my absence. Monday is my first full day back. Truth be told, I'm dreading it.

I'm sure it will be fine and it's just the anticipation that makes it so disheartening. After all, moms do it everyday around the world. Some go back as early as 6 weeks and I've been lucky enough to have 2 more weeks off. I have to suck it up. Be strong.

And go buy that lottery ticket - just in case I hit the jackpot. A girl can dream.

Moo

A pumping mom is not far removed from those of a bovine variety.

Let's think about it. I have tubing and horns attached to my udders (okay, we call them nipples and areolas in these parts) as suction stimulates the flow of milk at mid-tempo. Even the pump motor taunts me with a continuous soft, slow "moo" .

I have to hand it to exclusive pumpers. Breastfeeding isn't exactly a picnic but it seems so much easier now that I'm in my groove. No bottles, valves, membranes or flutes to wash. No need to remember storage guidelines or watch the clock as you follow a rigid pumping schedule. Breastmilk fresh from the tap is always at the perfect temperature and requires practically no cleanup, aside from my overactive letdown that gags Little Man and sprays him in the face if he should suddenly pull off. You know that carnival game where you squirt the water at the bullseye to see who can reach the top the fastest? Yeah, well I could be a champ and I don't even need the gun.

When pumping, I find myself eyeballing the drops. Counting the ounces. Cheering on the boobies. I turn it into a competition. Which boob will give the most milk in the fastest time? Lefty is almost always the winner so I find myself rooting for underdog Righty. After a feed, I can usually get about 2-3 oz. but I've gotten as much as 6 oz. when Nate only fed off Righty and Lefty was engorged (the things I get excited about these days...). My little piggie eats about 3-5 oz. from the bottle now so I need to do a good bit of pumping to provide 4 bottles on those days I will be working in the office.

For me, the scheduling is the hardest part. Nate falls asleep after almost every feed so it is hard to put him down and pump immediately. He is clingy and needs to be held ALOT. If he wakes up shortly after I put him down, he wants to dream feed to soothe himself back to sleep. In other words, I top him off so he gets that much more milk drunk. His feeds can be so sporadic (one boob vs. two, 1 hour vs. 3 hours apart) that it makes it hard to predict a safe time to pump. I don't want to pump and then have only an appetizer if he decides to wake up demanding a 4-course meal. Needless to say, I don't have much of a stash built up for when I return to work next week. But I'm hoping to correct that problem this week. I've been drinking Gatorade left and right (the electrolytes can boost your supply!) and I'm considering getting some Mother's Milk Tea to help me out temporarily. I am not opposed to supplementing with formula, if needed, but I really want to avoid it if I can and stick with exclusive breastmilk.

It's just hard to manage all of the details and I'm hoping that, like everything else, it will get easier and more predictable as time goes on.


BTW: No more nursing strikes so far. Whew. And he is now taking a bottle quite willingly when we offer it. Go figure.