A Week in Review

Although I am now at the end of my fourth week back to work, and there is much more to be said, I'd like to share what I wrote in my journal after my first week back.

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It has been a very tough week.  I've cried several times a day, every day.  I cried when I was telling Eli it would be a big day, driving south on I-75 to work and his (our) first day with day care.  I cry when I sing to him -- something that happened when he was first born, too.  I can't get through a lullaby without choking up, just overwhelmed with this love.

For starters, to describe this mother's love for her child:  I unabashedly sing for him.  Loud, throaty, sincere, and passionately.  Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" and Gillian Welch's "Elvis Presley Blues" are some of our favorites.  Hymns.   Spirituals.  Chanting.  "Piano Man" by Billy Joel -- but I have to hum between the snippets of lyrics I actually know.  And I love singing to Eli, whereas before I only really felt comfortable singing with my full voice in church or other sacred-type settings.

"Hi, Mom!"  

This week I also cried in frustration when he was awake, again, in the middle of the night, just 40 minutes later.  I cried out of exhaustion and uncertainty, unsure how to best comfort my baby, both with a long-term "sleep plan" and in the present moment.  I sagged against the crib, everything tunneling to this moment.   The night light cast long, familiar shadows over the room.

I cried over dinner following my second day at work, after the energetic nanny told me Eli had rolled over that day for her, practically his first time.  He'd rolled over twice (by accident?) on my birthday nearly two months ago, but hadn't since.  That day I'd also spilled half a bottle of breast milk on my lap after pumping at work.  A colleague had said I'd "looked upset" at the noontime provider meeting-- something about permitting my emotions to be visible to others, mere professional acquaintances at this point, was more upsetting than anything!

But now it's the weekend, and the salve of Saturday is upon us.  We dedicated a "family waterpark-in-the-backyard" day today.  Little dude got in the baby pool for the first time today!!  I first halfway submerged him in the water by himself, then sat with him, supporting him first standing, then sitting, then completely lying in the water.  It felt great for both of us, splashing and laughing.  Plus the cool of the water-- yesterday had a heat index (def.:  a quantity expressing the discomfort felt as a result of the combined effects of the temperature and humidity of the air, a term one doesn't hear in the weather report in California, ever) of 108!

Now as we sit on our patio in the evening, Jon and I boast to each other how adapted we are to the heat and humidity.  It's past 9, nearly dark, and the temperature gauge reads 85, the air still heavy.  In California I had missed wearing a sundress through the late evening.  Now, reminding me of my teenage summers partying around pasture bonfires, here I am, warm and sleeveless under the stars.

I'd also missed the cooing of doves in the early mornings and evenings.  And the fireflies!!

As part of the backyard water park experience, we'd set up a sprinkler we had used in the past for our Petaluma veggie garden.  Just a cheapo, but it provided great rays of water flipping around the yard!  Super fun-- Jon and I ran through it like children.

To relax after the water fun, Eli and I laid on blankets and looked up at the clouds together.  He likes looking at leaves, trees, and sky-- something with the contrast of sunlight and dappling shade, bright open sky beyond the rippling leaves.  I also believe green is an evolutionarily appealing color, naturally calming to our deeply instinctual brains.

This has been an incredibly, uniquely challenging week.  Sleep deprivation.  Giant hormone shifts.  New anxieties.  A monster of worry for the safety of my child, for his sense of security and balance in the world.  And I feel my own workaholism, kept at bay in different ways, rear itself back up to stare me in the face...  More on that later.

But life, in general, is pretty great.  I have an even-tempered, loving, handsome, relaxed baby boy who brings such sweet and meaningful moments to our lives we scarce feel we existed before he came aboard.

This has to be my all-time favorite photo of Eli yet, taken by my Aunt Jann, a talented photographer.