Final Week of Leave

Work is the new birth.

What I mean is, I used to get diarrhea when we would talk about childbirth. Now I feel like I have to run to the bathroom every time we talk about me going back to work.

I've had several work-related nightmares. The dreams are pretty transparent, so I don't even have to consult some woowoo dream interpretation website. Last night I dreamt I went back to work, left the baby in my purse all day, and realized I forgot to change her diaper. The skin on her back was red, infected, and sloughing off. My supervisor was witnessing my parental ineptitudes, and I was bumbling around like an idiot trying to find the baby in the huge blackhole that is my purse, locate a clean diaper for her, and tend to her pteradactyl-like screeches of pain from the skin problem. Then my supervisor was explaining to me my new responsibilities, and it sounded like she was speaking Greek or Chinese or Swahili. I started to cry, saying that I didn't understand, and I wasn't sure how I was going to be able to find any of my belongings, let alone my old brain.

So yeah, it's safe to say that I'm having a bit (ha! a LOT) of anxiety about going back to the VA. Worry about not being my daughter's primary caretaker. Worry about my ability to learn. Worry about my energy level. Worry about Francie's health and safety. Worry I won't be around for her "firsts" - first giggle, first rollover. Worry that I'm missing out on all the fun. Worry that I'm going to fail both as a mother and as a speech pathologist. I'm grateful I don't dread my actual job, so I'm not weary of how I'll be spending my time, but of how I WON'T be spending my time.

Alex has been remarkably understanding and reassuring. It appears he's taken some sort of online communication course, because he says things like, "It sounds like you are frustrated," or, "I hear you saying you're afraid she won't remember you" in his best therapist voice. It's almost like he magically has round spectacles and a full beard and mustache when he says those things, resting his chin on his fist. That's some serious reflective listening, my friends, and this is a rather novel endeavor.

I have T minus one week until my return to work. I plan to enjoy every minute of holding, feeding, smiling, and cooing with my daughter, lots of cuddle time with her daddy, some small projects around the house, and maybe even some sunshine and fresh air should Juneary become actual June.

As my mother would say, "It's not time to worry yet." Unless I'm sleeping, apparently.