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hard knock life

Our little man was not happy last night. Since my tummy was a little upset, it’s possible his was, too. He fussed. A lot. And I had to work. So there I was, sitting at my desk, listening to him cry, not able to do anything to help (Daddy was with him). And even if I had been able to get away from my desk, what would I do? Is it time to stop picking him up every time he cries? When do they start learning and taking advantage of that?

J doesn’t want to get in the habit of having to walk the floor with the kid. I understand that. But it also kills me to hear him cry for very long. Really. It feels like someone is ripping my heart out and *I* start to cry.

So how do you know?

He would manage to be comforted for a bit and then start crying again. I really think he had some bad gas that was bothering him, as he eventually settled down after we gave him some mylicon. But it was quite late before he managed to fall asleep.

And then, mama didn’t get much sleep, because she kept waking up all night to check on him when he whimpered in his sleep. On top of that, I had nightmares when I did sleep. Dreams full of anxiety and drama, most of it about the baby. Seriously. It even continued into today. I took a nap after working for a couple of hours this morning, and I woke up twice from bad dreams. Geez, what is up with that?

Needless to say, I’m pretty tired today AND a bit leery about going to sleep. Isn’t that lovely?

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getting back to work, and not wanting to

Monday I go into work for the first time in three months. It seems like so much longer than that. And yet, not long at all. How long it’s been doesn’t matter.

What matters is that I’m a nervous wreck.

I haven’t been away from our boy (soon to be named, “Tank” because Wee One just DOES NOT apply anymore) since he was born. The longest I’ve left him was a run to the store, which I can see from my bedroom window. And on Monday, I’m expected to be away from him for 4 hours. Not 15 minutes. FOUR hours. And I’m beside myself. I start crying every time I think about it. Why?

Because my exclusive time with him is over and from here it’s just more time away and more separation. There will never be this time again. He’ll start depending on me less and before I know it he’ll grow up and move away. And I’m not ready for any of that.

Going back to work isn’t a big deal. Once I get caught up, I can work from home (for a few months, anyway). We need the insurance. So I’ll do what I have to do, because we need the money and the coverage.

But really, it’s what it symbolizes that rips my heart out. The little guy still needs me. I know this. But it still signals the end of something that I’m not ready to face. I have no choice, and I think that’s what hurts the most.

I really have no choice.

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