12 weeks

Dear Baby B,

I can hardly believe that it has been 12 weeks since you entered this world and about a year since you've entered our lives. This time last year, your daddy and I were talking about trying to have a baby and laughing as we pictured ourselves as parents (still not grown ups). The idea of it was especially surreal to me because I always knew that I would be a mother, but I could never picture myself as pregnant. Weird, I know.

While I was pregnant, I took good care of you, but I don't think I would have called myself a mom...yet. I was still working and socializing, while anxiously making plans for your arrival. Your daddy and I planned your nursery, signed up for classes, exercised, bought a sassy mommy car, found your babysitter and pediatrician. We made so many plans, based on what we assumed that parenthood would or should be.

One of our assumptions was that after 12 weeks at home with you, I would load you into my sassy mommy car, drive you to the sitter's house and then head to work, picking up right where I left off. I was 100% on board with this plan for quite awhile. I'll even admit to sitting on the kitchen floor, crying and begging your daddy to stay home with you while I headed into the office. It wasn't my proudest moment and I know now that it wasn't really me talking, it was those hormones. They're seriously no joke and it was only after I was on the other side of my postpartum depression that I realized how serious they were and what a patient and kind daddy that you have.

I've said this before, but I didn't expect to like you this much! I've loved you since before you we're born, but I didn't know how much fun I would have being your mom. You smile while I sing to you, you've mastered nursing and have the rolls to prove it, and I swear you want to start walking tomorrow. You are so patient as we learn how to take care of you, that its almost impossible for me to bear the thought of you spending your days with anyone else. I know your cries and I know how to comfort you. This week, you came down with your first cold and seemed to sleep best in my arms. Knowing that I've been able to help you rest while your body fights this nasty bug means the world to me...so much so that I'm willing to overlook the daily shower of baby barf that has accompanied this cold.

When you arrived, 12 weeks seemed like forever. It seemed like enough time for you to grow a little bigger and for me to heal. It seemed like enough time to for us to figure one another out. Now that my Return to Work day is looming, I realize that 12 weeks isn't any time at all. Actually, this fact dawned on me a few weeks ago, along with the onset of working mommy guilt when I began to question my decision to return to work full time. I began to realize that you'd be spending your days with someone else. I pictured her playing with you, singing you songs and comforting you while you were fussy, and frankly it makes my stomach hurt. However, the thought of walking away from a job and company that I believe in and worked hard to become a part of, also leaves me uneasy...and round and round I go.

This morning, we dropped you off at your new sitter's house. We really like her and you seemed to as well. I wasn't sure how I would feel, but it was as hard as I expected. I cried as I passed you over to her and again as your daddy and I walked out the door. I never want to feel that feeling again, but I know that I will tomorrow. I also know that to be the best mommy for you, I need to give this working mommy gig a shot. If it doesn't work out - we'll go back to our regularly scheduled program of horrible daytime TV and elastic pants.

Love,
Momma