And I’m back. With a new baby.
He is perfect and wonderful and healthy.
Right now, I’m in 24-7 feed-the-baby mode. My husband calls me The Dairy Queen.
Will blog more as soon as I get more than 5 minutes. And can think of what to say — because there’s so much to say. And really nothing else except:
I’m in love, I’m in love, I’m in love.
This is it for me. My last baby. I’ll never be pregnant again.
Here’s what I won’t miss about being pregnant:
-Peeing myself
-Heartburn
-That shooting pain up my left side.
-Waking up every 2 hours in the night to pee (which is sort of a trade-off because now I’ll have to wake up every 2 hours to feed the baby)
-Excruciating back pain
-Feeling like I’m walking around with a blood-filled football jammed between my legs
-Waddling
-Waves of nausea
-Co-workers/bosses/people laughing because I’m pregnant and eating or pregnant and waddling or just pregnant in general.
Because apparently it’s funny.
While I think, “You try making a person, buddy. And see how funny it is.”
In two days, I go into the hospital for a scheduled C-section.
I still can’t believe it. It’s been such a strange pregnancy. But here’s what I’ll miss about being pregnant:
-Eating ice cream and not feeling guilty. How good it tastes: cold and creamy and delicious.
-Being nice to myself because I know I need to. Taking it easy. Lying down on the couch and having my husband give me a much-needed break.
-Knowing my baby is with me, wherever I go. Feeling his little kicks and talking to him.
-Listening to my body. Instead of just pushing it all the time.
-Getting to leave work early because I’m pregnant.
-The anticipation.
-Not dieting.
-Thinking my big belly is beautiful.
-Feeling that, despite it all — all the tiredness and the nausea and the feeling crappy in general — something special is happening to me.
Today was my last day at work before I’m off for maternity leave.
Everybody was in high spirits. There were donuts and cupcakes and everybody got a sugar rush. It felt like summer vacation. A break. The start of something new.
Then we got an email from our employer, the publisher. Sales are down, revenue is down. Layoffs are coming. And now we’re furloughed for 15 days. Which means we won’t get paid for a month. It’s also called a reduced increase in salary. Imagine three weeks of your paycheck gone, evaporated.
So there’s that. Which isn’t good, especially with all these hospital bills about to roll in.
I called my agent because I hadn’t heard from him in 7 weeks and I needed to know what was going on, even though I already knew what was going on, I knew that if I hadn’t heard from him, it wasn’t good. But I still hoped. And worried. And couldn’t sleep.
We played phone tag for awhile. His assistant was kind and chipper and I took that as a sign, that maybe my novel wasn’t tanking all over New York. I thought, Maybe I still have a chance.
My agent called back at 4 p.m. to tell me that all the editors he’d sent the book to had passed.
And now there’s that.
I feel so bad. I don’t have words.
I’m having a baby in four days. And I don’t know how I’m going to do it.
All this worry, all this stress. Because I wanted to sell my book and get more time with the baby. More time to work on my own career.
All my hopes and dreams, trashed. And there’s nothing for it. There’s no way to fix it. There’s nothing to do but pace and white-knuckle it and wish I had never dreamed in the first place.
- “I think I’m dying. Am I dying?”
- “Is that a contraction? Or Braxton-Hicks? Or indigestion from lunch?”
- “Where are my Tums?”
- “Wow. Look at those cankles. I look like Orca the Teenage Whale.”
- “3:30 p.m. 3:30 p.m.! This clock must be wrong.”
- “25th visit to the ladies’ room. I think this bare patch is a path I’ve worn into the carpet.”
- “If I get home and my husband asks ‘What’s for dinner?’ I will kill him.”
- “Oof. Ow. Ouch. Hey, that hurt!” (when the baby kicks).
- “Man, I think this baby is going to be a 10-pounder.”
- “Yep. About to pop any minute.” (Through clenched teeth when co-workers say “Wow, you look like you’re going to pop any minute” & then laugh. Because it is so funny! That is so funny! I’m laughing so hard right now!)
- “Sob. Sob, sniffle.”
It’s not that bad. But then it is. It depends. Being pregnant has its moments. Like when a random stranger holds the door open for you or your husband lets you have the last dinner roll.
But anytime after 3 p.m. in the office is not one of them.
I worked up a budget.
Where we are now.
Where we will be when with new baby comes.
Where we would be if I quit my job.
I’ve heard so many people say, “We worked up a budget and realized that minus the day-care costs, we’d actually be saving money. So Joanie or Janey or Jezebel quit her job! Now she’s staying home with the baby. And she loves it! Can’t you do that?”
You would think I’d be able to do that. I really don’t make that much money.
But my budget says that if I quit my job, we could cover the mortgage and the majority of monthly bills. But we wouldn’t have enough left over to pay for groceries, clothes, diapers, formula, hospital bills and anything extra expense we’d run across during the month (like an oil change or a visit to the dentist).
So here’s the truth: I’m scared of quitting my job. I’m terrified that I would be putting my family in financial jeopardy. Even though it’s something that I want desperately.
I read articles like this one on “Regrets of a stay-at-home mom” and I know that my fears are all too real. But then I read about other mom bloggers and how you’ll never get this time back with your kids and how sometimes you need to take a leap of faith and the money will work itself out.
But will it?
I feel so torn. My head says, “Stay. Work. This is the way the world works now. You can’t survive without a double income.”
But my heart says “Go.”
And I’m endlessly torn between the two of them.
Henry did okay at his new preschool.
I probably didn’t need to fall apart at work and be a total drama queen…but being 9 months pregnant, staring down a C-section and lack of sleep will do that to you.
I still don’t know how his first day went exactly. The teachers said he did fine. I asked Henry a thousand questions when we got home and he wasn’t too forthcoming. He was shy and quiet about it and wouldn’t say anything. It was probably all so new.
He got along with the other kids fine and made some new friends. But he couldn’t sleep during nap time and I hate to think about him, lying in the dark for two hours…what he thought about and if he was scared or lonely.
So we took him to the pool last night as a special treat. His favorite thing to do is jump into the water and we catch him. He makes funny faces and launches himself into the air and it just pure joy — to watch him, to laugh and be together as a family.
“Just look at that face,” my friend and fellow working mom said. “It couldn’t have been too bad.”
I was worried Henry might fuss about going back to his new school this morning, but he was up and at ‘em. He said, “I want to see my friends!” He strapped on his back pack and his dad took over the drop-off duty for me.
Phew.
And my maternity leave is just 3 short weeks away. Which means that we can do shorter days at the new preschool until Henry gets used it. And I’m really looking forward to that.
Ups and downs, man. I’ll tell you. It’s rough. One day, I feel like jumping out a window. The next, I feel so happy and lucky and blessed — just to be with my family.
It’s hard work, being a working mom. But seeing that 3-year-old face — jumping into the water, making that leap — makes it all worth it.
