Leaving Charlie
With one week to go in my maternity leave, I have a trip that I have both anticipated and dreaded for the past 5 months. Anticipated for the fun of what it will be: wine tasting in Napa and Sonoma, celebrating the upcoming wedding of one of my dearest friends; dreading leaving my sweet, smiley baby at home. When she was born, I remember feeling like I would never be able to -- never would WANT -- to leave her side. And yet, life continued and I slowly ventured out into the world, but nothing so dramatic as leaving Charlie for 4 hours, let alone 4 days.
Before leaving, I raced around the house trying to prepare and make my husband's life easier while he was home with her. I cried as I put Charlie to bed, explaining to her that Mom would wake her up on Monday morning. I read and read and read blogs about pumping while traveling; I fretted and planned and fretted and planned about what I would do and where I would pump and what it would be like.
My worries about the travel kept me focus and made getting out of the house easier; I had to get to the airport to get through security, pump before my flight, and get some food to sustain me on my 6 hour flight (as anyone who has ever nursed can attest: 6 hours with no food is a dreadful prospect). And all of my worrying and fretting seemed to be for naught... TSA was incredibly nice. There was a Cava with no line (there are perks of wanting a rice bowl at 6am). I got to the United lounge and pumped with relatively little incident (after 10 minutes of being convinced my pump was broken only to realize it was not plugged in). Johnny called and gave a glowing report about Charlie.
The moral of the story is that life goes on. There will be many more trips - for work and for fun, with and without Charlie. I'm sure I will continue to plan and worry. I'm sure that each trip will get easier. We grow and we transition; and, as much as we plan and worry the transitions are usually less challenging and painful than we anticipate.
There will be more firsts in the next few weeks: the first day of daycare, the first day back at work, Charlie's first illness, etc. Johnny, Charlie, and I will figure it out together and we will all be better for it.
But, first, my next first: pumping on an airplane. And, of course, anxiously awaiting Monday morning when I get to hold my sweet girl in my arms again.
Before leaving, I raced around the house trying to prepare and make my husband's life easier while he was home with her. I cried as I put Charlie to bed, explaining to her that Mom would wake her up on Monday morning. I read and read and read blogs about pumping while traveling; I fretted and planned and fretted and planned about what I would do and where I would pump and what it would be like.
My worries about the travel kept me focus and made getting out of the house easier; I had to get to the airport to get through security, pump before my flight, and get some food to sustain me on my 6 hour flight (as anyone who has ever nursed can attest: 6 hours with no food is a dreadful prospect). And all of my worrying and fretting seemed to be for naught... TSA was incredibly nice. There was a Cava with no line (there are perks of wanting a rice bowl at 6am). I got to the United lounge and pumped with relatively little incident (after 10 minutes of being convinced my pump was broken only to realize it was not plugged in). Johnny called and gave a glowing report about Charlie.
The moral of the story is that life goes on. There will be many more trips - for work and for fun, with and without Charlie. I'm sure I will continue to plan and worry. I'm sure that each trip will get easier. We grow and we transition; and, as much as we plan and worry the transitions are usually less challenging and painful than we anticipate.
There will be more firsts in the next few weeks: the first day of daycare, the first day back at work, Charlie's first illness, etc. Johnny, Charlie, and I will figure it out together and we will all be better for it.
But, first, my next first: pumping on an airplane. And, of course, anxiously awaiting Monday morning when I get to hold my sweet girl in my arms again.
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