All day. All day I felt a melancholy sadness running below the surface, rushing swiftly like a raging river, trying to sweep me away in my own disappointment of time’s cruel passage. Indeed the time had come. Time to return to work.
First I tried to ward off my dread by counting my blessings. What better way to try and take the brunt of a reality check than by being thankful for what’s in essence a really wonderful life.
Yet it wasn’t working. Still the knowledge of what was coming picked at me, nagging nastily at my heart. I wasn’t ready. Not yet.
My baby was still so small, so dependent on me, and my mommy mind worried for how she would respond to my absence. I wondered, almost as an afterthought, how would I respond?
So then I decided busyness was the best course of action. Idle hands and what-not. I taught homeschool to my kindergartener like nothing was amiss. I watched recorded American Idol episodes with abandon, like I didn’t need to prepare myself mentally to get up early, leave my tiny baby at home, and go to work to care for other people’s family.
But as the clock ticked on, and the day continued to trudge forward with unexpected, reckless speed I couldn’t deny the fact any longer. The time that I had dreaded, that I had pretended wasn’t quickly approaching, had finally arrived. And it had arrived with full force. In fact, it was currently parked on my momma heart.
The past seven weeks with my baby daughter had flown by. Flown. Some days had zipped by in an exhausted blur, but what I always remembered the most were the quiet moments in the dim light when I would be rocking her, and suddenly I would gaze at her soft, pink face, and I would feel heaven. It would literally seem as if angels had landed in my lap, and manifested glory right there in the form of a sleeping infant.
Long lashes, pursed, pouty lips, and the even breathing of a dream come true. Tiny fingers, perfect toes, and rosy, plump cheeks that begged to be kissed. A miniature thief that had stolen my heart unaware. And now I would be leaving her.
My heart wanted to break.
I had done it before. Yes. But it never seemed any easier. Though I served in a career of calling, one that held a reward all in itself, it seemed to me as I watched a piece of myself slumbering in my lap, that no joy or comparable satisfaction could match that moment.
I knew, though. I knew I would get up early and I would kiss my lovely babies goodbye. All my lovely babies. It was what I must do.
But I also knew this. I knew that I would return, and at that moment the kisses would be even sweeter, the embraces more rewarding, and the love as deep as human souls can allow.
I had seen it before, and I would see it again. Returning to work after baby was awful and dreadful. But the return home was oh so sweet.