I really want to spend as much time with my son as possible. All of his laughs, wimpers for me to pick him up, silly faces, real boogers, crusty eyes in the morning, explosive diapers, 12 am feedings, 2 am feedings, 4 am feedings (no, I am not kidding), I love them all. He just learned to roll over, completely from back to tummy. Now he is sleeping on his side. Sleeping on his side, why is that such a milestone? I care more about the fact that my son has the capability to sleep on his side than I do almost anything else happening in this world. Just as I can devote an entire blog post (and probably many subsequent ones) to this seemingly small fact, I can also spend more than the allotted amount of friend time discussing the fact that my son sleeps on his side.

With all this said, I dread, loathe, absolutely do not want to go back to work. Although, there are days that I have glimpses of excitement as I work on my second grade reading list and lesson plans but they all too quickly vanish when I hear my son’s pterodactyl screeches when he realizes I’ve been watching him longer than he knew about.

That feeling, that I will miss something during the hours he is in the infant class of a really awesome preschool, almost stops me in my tracks, forcing me to catch the breath that just escaped from my lungs. I know, beyond a doubt that he will be taken care of, and I am a lucky mom in that my son will spend the second half of his days just a floor below my classroom. As soon as my students head off to carpool I can rush downstairs and scoop up my boy. I am beyond thankful for this, for without it, I know I would not be going back to work. My husband would take another job or work overtime, we would gladly never eat at a restaurant again as we live off one income. Thankfully, we don’t have to scrimp while we save for our first house. We can both work. I can work at a job that I loved at one time and know that I will find a new way to settle into it again, even while bringing along these feelings that I am walking, talking, teaching, while my heart is literally out of my body. I’ve been told, promised even, that it does get easier. My son is lucky to be at a preschool that will care for him like one of their own, teach him sign language, read to him, and rock him to sleep just like his mommy (well, almost). We can do this. I am not a horrible mother for leaving my almost 5 months old in the care of someone else. He will learn to love other caretakers but will always know I am his mom (right? I hope he doesn’t forget who I am, yes this is one of my biggest fears).

Could you tell I’m a new mom? What gave it away?