I can’t believe that you’re nine months old now. You’ve been in daycare since you were four months old and it has not gotten any easier for me. I miss you every single day, hour, minute, second, and breath that we’re apart. I cried after I dropped you at daycare today. I cry a lot of days that we’re apart, but today felt so hard. When I dropped you off there was a toddler there crying for some reason. I’m not sure why it could be any reason, but my imagination lead me to believe he missed his Mommy. You looked confused when I handed you over to the daycare provider. Usually you greet daycare with a smile, but having a crying toddler in the room set a cloud of confusion over your drop off.
I hate being a full-time working Mom. I wish I could stay home with you to get quality time together. I feel like I’ve been robbed from a huge part of your life as a baby and there’s nothing I can do. Time is quickly passing by and before we know it you will be an adult and I will have missed out on a huge part of these precious baby months and years. I want you to know that this was never easy. I’ve always loved you and missed you and would be with you if I could afford to.
Thank you for being so flexible with all my appointments during pregnancy.
Thank you for letting me work from home. It really helps with being able to make daycare drop off and pickup.
Thank you for never complaining to me about my pumping schedule.
Thank you for making the transition back to work so much easier.
Why haven’t you met with me at all since I returned to work? I’ve been back for eight months and we’ve finally met to do my performance review on the previous year. A year filled with pregnancy, appointments, nausea, braxton hicks, pregnancy brain, never calling out sick during pregnancy, the birth of my first child, and a four month maternity leave. My review is bad. I’m considered professional, but unreliable. This is the worst review I’ve ever had in my life at work. I’m not doing as much work as others. I try to explain pumping takes up 1.5 hours of my work days, sleep deprivation is real and a struggle, but it doesn’t seem to matter. The fact that I never called out sick while pregnant doesn’t count for anything either. I don’t blame you for your concerns, but can’t help but feel hurt. I’m disappointed in my own work performance, but still can’t seem to muster much more. I’m a living breathing zombie.
I feel nervous that you’re already mentioning things you want me to do for when I no longer pump. I don’t have an end in sight for breastfeeding and pumping and feel uncomfortable when you tell me this, but I bite my tongue and agree.
I still find myself crying throughout some work days. Longing for my baby, and a well rested brain to do my job. I know I’m not the only woman going through this. I know there are women with children who manage more on their plate at work and home than me. Every person is different. I am probably the second woman in our office to breastfeed and I’m much different than the other woman. I’m being held to an expectation that I can’t fulfill. I need to focus all my pumping time on my baby to produce and pump as much breast milk as possible. This involves looking at pictures of my baby and watching videos of him. If I don’t do this, I pump a lot less milk. I value my breastfeeding connection with my baby and do not want to lose that until it comes naturally for me and my baby. This is very important to me.
I’m thankful for your patience, but not sure how much is genuine anymore. I’m afraid of this reset button you want to press to get back on track at work. I can’t press reset when my whole life has changed forever.
Personality, sense of humor, babbling, love, affection.
The list is endless.
I love all these things about you.
Thank you for that coffee you brought me.
Thank you for the food you brought over and meeting my baby. Not every friend made the effort to do that.
Thank you for sending me food in the mail.
Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for continuing to reach out to me to make plans, visit, or see me and my baby.
Thank you for taking a genuine interest in me and my child.
Thank you for listening.
You’re eight months old and I love you more than you could ever know. You’re my baby boy, my first born child, the apple of my eye. I can not imagine my world without you and am so thankful you’re in my life. I have been thinking about writing letters to you for some time now and have felt so overcome with emotions that I’ve decided to put pen to paper now.
These past eight months have flown by. I was lucky enough to spend the first four months of your life with you on maternity leave. Every moment we were together and it was all consuming. Then my maternity leave ended and I had to return to work when you were only four months old. I know I’m lucky I had a maternity leave. Some people have even shorter leave than I did with you. However, I like to compare myself to Canadians and Europeans that get much longer leave and envy those women who get to spend even longer time with their babies. You were only a four month old when you started daycare full time Monday-Friday. Your day at daycare is longer than my work day. You typically arrive between 7-8AM and get picked up between 4-5PM. I did not want to go this route. I wanted and still want to be a stay at home mom with you. I hate being apart from you. I can’t afford to quit my job and stay home. Our family needs two incomes. I fantasize about quitting my job to be with you. I know being a stay at home mom is hard work and more demanding than my current job. I’m a 33 going on 34 year old in a dead end career. I’ve had the same job for the past five and a half years and see no room for advancement where I work. I’m sorry I’m not with you as much as I’d like. I envy the daycare workers that get to spend so much time with you. I feel a pang of jealously when you spring with excitement to go to daycare. I also feel relief that you enjoy it there and happy that you’re getting affection while we’re apart. I’m happy that you’re happy.
You have the best personality and swoon people wherever we go. You’re extremely cute, “well behaved”, and go from 0 to 60 in no time. You love to be held, kissed, and snuggled. You light up my heart and make me smile. Thank you for being you.