I did it. After 12 not-always-glorious (okay, rarely glorious) weeks off, I went back to work. I moaned a bit about having to go back on a Wednesday, which is my Friday, but it worked out just fine. It was kind of a good transition shift. I think I'd be more depressed if I'd gone back with a full 40 hour work week in front of me. Okay, 37.5 hour work week (I work for the state).
I felt like a rusty old machine when I got to work but before I left for the day, I was getting back into the swing of it. Regardless, it didn't make it any easier to leave the house last night when it was time to make the drive downtown to work.
I dropped the boys off after lunch yesterday so I could squeeze in an afternoon nap and lingered....and lingered....and lingered a bit. What? As it turns out, Dexter was hungry. What's the point of wasting a bottle and having to go home and pump when I could just hold him and snuggle up to him and smell his little head and kiss his face and ... oh yeah, feed him, for just a few minutes.
I thought it would be easier the second time around since I know and love our babysitter. Not so. Apparently the sadness I felt with Theo was only partially due to the fact that I was leaving him with a complete stranger. Now that complete stranger is the person I trust totally and completely with my boys. But it didn't matter. I still cried on the way home, thinking about the fact that I've spent 12 weeks with Dexter and I'll never get them back. I'll never be able to spend that much time with him again. I guess it's about quality and not quantity sometimes.
But, I can do this. I've done it before and we'll all be okay. Everyone says "Dexter's fine! He'll do great!" Duh. It's not him I'm worried about. sadfacesadfacesadface.
smiling through the tears (but not really),