First, since I finalllly sent out her birth announcements, I can show them off here:
And how amazing is this photo? I guess she’s going to like Star Wars (whether she likes it or not!)
Unbearable cuteness…that’s what I had to leave at home.
In many ways it was better than I thought, but in many ways it was worse.
I really wanted to try not to cry, but the waterworks started during her first feeding at 5 am. Dropping her off wasn’t that bad because it was my sister’s house, not a daycare center. That really, really helped. (I did cry… but only a little bit).
Work was so much busier than I had anticipated, and it made the day fly by. I didn’t get to wade back into my routine – I got pushed in, full force. I had 1,600 emails to sort and a new desk to set up. I had a pumping schedule to figure out. I had picture texts of my baby to check hourly. Before I knew it, the day was close to done.
So that was good. But going from a full day of Molly to a full day of work was weird. I FaceTimed with her at lunch, but in retrospect that probably wasn’t the best idea. The sound of my voice made her turn her head from side to side looking for me. That made my heart hurt (and made me cry, obviously).
This whole working mom thing… it’s not for me. I’d be just as happy barefoot and pregnant in a kitchen (while being treated as an equal to all men, obviously). But yeah. The pump is so cold and…unnatural. Everything about it is unnatural. Someone said that after going back to work, I’d be living for the weekends. Yeah, it’s only been a day, but I can totally see that. I’m hungering for Friday night. All day I dreamed of 5:30, and even though I’m freaking exhausted, I don’t want to go to sleep. I want to stare at her all night. I don’t want to waste a minute.
Because it is… it’s unnatural! We work all day to pay for these houses that we’re too tired to enjoy when we get home at night. We spend most of our time in them sleeping. Our family, the people we love the most, are the people we see the least. We spend our days with strangers who might become friends, sure, but they’re not flesh and blood. We sit at desks and stare at screens and get fat asses. It’s no way to live.
I love that I’m a writer. I’m grateful to have a job. But I miss my baby like hell and I wish I could do both. Plus, I found out today that my hours are really 8-5:30 despite the fact that for the last year I’ve been leaving at 5. Okayyyyyy…so now I’m getting home at 6. That’s 10.5 hours (counting my 7:30 morning departure, and assuming I don’t have to stop for groceries or anything). *Sigh.*
I know it will get better. Everyone keeps saying it will get better. Molly was fine, well-behaved even. Not fussy. My sister’s kids were beside themselves with excitement. They kept giving her toys and her cousin Addison was a little mommy, helping to change her diaper and give her her bottle.
Speaking of bottles – can I get advice from my fellow pumpers? Today at my sister’s house, Molly drank 15 ounces of frozen breastmilk. At work I pumped three times (at the insistence of a fellow coworker pumper, who claims that’s all I would need). All together I got 10 ounces. So… should I be pumping 4 times? I don’t want to run out, but if she’s drinking 15 ounces per day then I will soon. I’ll admit I was a little lazy about tracking how often she ate while I was home… mostly because I used nursing to soothe pretty often, so those weren’t really feedings. It just felt like I had a boob out 24/7, so this whole “schedule” thing is really throwing me.
OK, time to go enjoy my short time with my daughter. Also, how cute is her report card from today? Ha, my sister is crazy (but I love her).
