I got an email from my manager this week. I was sitting in the front porch swing of a beach house with Arlo propped up against my legs when it popped up on my phone. He wanted to know what day I was returning to work. Oof. I didn’t even want to think about it. The last 9 weeks have been so wonderful. There are such few opportunities to fully devote oneself to their family at this stage at life. With my husband as the stay at home caregiver for our children, we are more blessed than most. I’ve been able to spend my maternity leave with both of my children AND my husband. Brent and I started saving as soon as I found out that I was pregnant so that I could take advantage of the full 12 weeks of maternity leave (only 6 of which are paid). While the financial burden of going without pay for 6 weeks was great, it was a worthy sacrifice, for sure.
Still rocking on the swing, I took a deep breath and wrote him back, asking for an extra day past my 12 week mark and the chance to come in for half days the first week. I have a great manager and he was happy to agree. A small weight lifted off my shoulders… at least I could babystep my way back into the office.
Since that conversation, the reality that this amazing time that I’ve been able to dedicate solely to my family is coming to a close. Reality and responsibility are waiting for me on the otherside of the next two weeks. Pencil skirts and conference calls… and most stress inducing of all… business trips away from my family are looming.
I am promising myself that I will make the most of the time left. We will squeeze in as many little adventures and memories as we can before the 10th arrives but I can’t deny that thought of going back to work makes me feel overwhelmed and sad. I don’t want to have to spend my time pumping in locked conference rooms and sending texts home to my husband for updates on how he is managing the kids on his own. I don’t want to miss out on how quickly my son is growing and changing.
19 days left…..
I’m determined to make the most of it.