Tomorrow

Tomorrow is my last official day of maternity leave. Wow- this just dawned on me. I know that the date has been slowly creeping up, but life has been to busy for me to dwell on it. And honest to God, I haven't felt sad until I typed that first sentence. Now, I am sitting here- head in hand- feeling awful.

Let me jump back a few years for a moment. Returning to work following my huge leave with Miles (all of spring and summer) was equivalent to learning how to re-breath oxygen independently. He and I were so close for those months, and we had shared to scariest and most stressful times together- not to leave out absolute blissful moments of wonderment and miracles. Caring for him had become such a natural extension of myself that leaving him every morning for school left me in tears during my daily commute for weeks. With time, the transition, as most typically do, got easier. And by the following year, leaving for work was a piece of cake (except for the fact that I leave before the sun is even awake).

Flip back to this moment, and I am right back in that difficult position. Self-created for sure, but none the less heartbreaking. Every cell in my body is attached to that darling baby girl; we don't go for very long without contact. I think to date the longest we've been apart was 7 hours- and nothing else comes even close to that. We both light up when we greet each other from nap breaks and play sessions. She literally purrs in my arms; I've never heard any other baby make this sound. We giggle, snuggle, tickle, and gaze for hours every day, and it's as if my arms were especially molded for her tiny body- that we were made for each other. For 9 months and then another 12 weeks, we've been inseparable. Literally.

In preparation for my return, I introduced Penelope to the bottle about three weeks ago. Since then my milk supply has been slowly dwindling. Even though she will still latch, I have to supplement all feeding with additional formula. I can no longer make enough milk for her. I'm wondering if even the thought of pumping at work has taken a psychological toll on the situation, but that's just speculation. This in itself has been very upsetting; I would prefer that she exclusively gets breast milk, but that is now beyond my control. Her health is what comes first and foremost, and homegirl likes to eat. From the moment she arrived, Penelope has been wonderful at feeding. She immediately latched following her delivery- just seconds after popping out she knew what to do. Truth be told, she near ate off my nipples in those early days, though thankfully, we were able to develop a fantastic feeding routine (and nipples of steel). This meant the world to me because breast feeding Miles was very difficult and stressful. Anyone who has ever struggled with breastfeeding can attest that feeling- it sucks, hands down, especially when this is a topic ripe for new mommy boastings. Penelope's enthusiasm and receptiveness not only boosted my confidence as a mom and gave me some redemption in my ego department. Furthermore, it only added to our bond. We went from Super Glue to electromagnetic status. Perhaps, dare I say, Super Strings attachment?

Anyways...

I am getting a little too upset to finish this post. I'd much rather spend this time watching her dream than reflecting on how sad I am about going back to work. Besides, we all do what we have to do for our families, right? Isn't that the role of a parent? In my case, I am the sole carrier of our health insurance policy- so there is no wiggle room- my buns are due back on Monday. I just hope both Miles and Penelope will someday know that every hour I spent working, taking classes, commuting, and completing professional development programs, I did for them. Though I am exceedingly proud of my profession and feel very, very, very blessed to have my job, I would instantly opt to stay home if it were feasible. Besides, as we all know, my passion for special education runs very deep; I will always be involved in the community in some fashion or another.

While my very being craves to stay at home with my children, I must spend some of that time away to ensure that we have a home to share together. Once again I am finding myself in awe of the power of parenthood- the pain of sacrifice and the love that keeps you going... even when your motivation is waiting for you in someone else's arms.

A Two Tiger Kind of Night

Miles is having a two-tiger kind of night- meaning he needed to snuggle with an extra tiger during bedtime. This brings the stuffed animal count up to five: two tigers, a beaver, a frog, and a Big Toe. He needed an extra light on, which we've never done before. And here's the kicker- he wanted to hold my hand. Rarely does he seek out affection of this nature. Typically, I am lucky to get in a quick cheek peck in daily, but loving of this nature (especially initiated by the little tough guy he has become) is quite unique. I think he was super tired tonight, so relaxing has been a bit harder for him. Earlier today he had his blood drawn for the annual thyroid screening. Though he handled the test like a true big boy, Jesse said kiddo did get a bit freaked out near the end of the test. Can you blame him? I have a huge fear of needles, so he comes by this honestly. So this, plus a day packed full of play, may have pushed him over the edge. But he's asleep now- thank goodness.

I too will need two tigers tonight because I am worried about Penelope. Tomorrow I plan on calling our ped. to discuss acid reflux concerns. Ever since the heart screening on Tuesday, Jesse and I are much more aware of this problem; having the cardiologist see reflux evidence during her assessment wasn't lost on our ears. I also want to discuss her slowing in weight gain. She's been hovering in the same range now for over two weeks; I am guessing this is reflux related. While she's eating roughly every three hours, which is right on tracking, the weight just isn't adding up.

Two tigers are also needed because I am wrestling with some serious ghosts of Two Month Appointments Past. (Read this entry as a refresher.) Maybe I am feeling more scared than I care to acknowledge. Maybe I am waiting for the other proverbial shoe to drop. This is exactly when we were met with Miles's Ds diagnosis. Now, as I type this entry, I am holding my breath in fear... waiting to learn of some difficulty, some setback, some new hurdle that my dear Penelope will have to face. I hate being pessimistic, but there are certain life experiences that leave such deep scars that knee jerk reactions and unavoidable triggers are just part of the turf.

Okay, I will "man up" and admit that I do this type of thinking as a self-defense mechanism. Allow me to elaborate- if I think of a possible event (more likely to be a bad experience), then I will be able to think of solutions before the event occurs- but in actuality, this strategy has NEVER worked for me. In my own feeble way, I am trying to protect myself from all of the scary what-if's that lurk in Parent Land. Sidebar- to my parents and your contemporaries, my hat's off to you. Being a parent is by far and beyond the most challenging, soul searching, and albeit, rewarding adventure of my life. In fact, it gives my life a whole new meaning. And the power of the experience is why, at least for me, it can hurt so much, too.

As a parent, I want the best for my children- health and happiness. When one of these goals are in jeopardy, I can't help but kick into super mom mode and look for remedies and solutions. When there isn't an easy fix, like a boo-boo kiss or bedtime handholding session, my heart hurts. Really, really hurts. And my mind begins to wander to that area of the What-Ifs. My main what-if is a variation on the same theme- what if I can't help them?!? Ugh!

To be honest, I already feel 90% better just writing it out. And reader, I hope that I have not put any of my stress onto you. Here, I have written to celebrate, to mourn, to vent, and to heal. This blog is the hub for my emotional cross-hares and puddlings, sappy sobs and fierce hollers. Tonight, I think I just oozed out a pile of painful confusions. Thanks for letting me do that. Now that some of the weight has been lessened, I need to secure two tigers of my own.

(And I will update of Penelope's reflux issues as soon as I learn more. Please wish my ladybug a good night's sleep. It's becoming more obvious that this is not a good time of day for her.)