Sometimes, it's hard to believe better days are ahead. But lately, I think it's true.
I remember a friend (and fellow first time mom) telling me, "I didn't actually enjoy my baby until about 3 months. At about that time, I stopped feeling like I made a mistake."
Sounds a little harsh until you're a first time mom. Then you realize that it's absolutely true. At first, you do feel like you've made a mistake. Even for the very wanted pregnancies, you're worried (selfishly) about the change in your life, about providing for the baby, about being a good mom.
Unfortunately, I didn't hear my friend's comment until my son was about 3 months. And she was right - until that time, I was struggling with the all-consuming nature of being a mom, of being a wife, of getting things done and figuring out my new and improved identity. And occasionally feeling like the primary provider. Even in the most balanced parenting partnerships, the mother does more, because there are things only mothers can do - breastfeeding, for one.
Lately, though - and certainly since coming back to work - I see that there really are good days and better days in store. I've had a great week, in part because of a simple scheduling shift. Up until now, DH would take Garcon to school, and I'd pick him up. It allowed me precious minutes alone in the morning to continue getting ready and straighten the house before I left. But the downside was a hideous commute home, where literally every street was under construction (tollway -> main artery -> side street). I had to hit the door at 5:01 to ensure I would arrive at the school by 5:50. It was exhausting, made me question working, gave me a tension headache and made me want to rethink the entire arrangement. I thought I got the better deal, because I got the "happy" pickup. I wouldn't have to emotionally separate from Garcon in the morning, but instead return triumphantly at the end of the day. Boy, was I wrong.
For our set of conditions, it's much, much better for me to drop him off in the morning. I have to wake up 20 minutes earlier, and have to hit the door a few minutes earlier, but it's like clockwork after that. I drop him off, head down a main artery and jump on the tollway. It's almost the same amount of time to make the stop at the daycare as when I drive from our house to the office, due to the different traffic conditions/different directions. And, here's the icing on the cake. When I leave the office, I can just head home, relaxed in my speedy commute, and avoid the construction by his school. I get home earlier, can start dinner, change clothes, and my DH picks up Garcon. The entire evening has possibilities, because I'm not beaten down.
I wouldn't think such a minor change would make a big difference but it has. Better days are here already. Because I'm not feeling beaten down at the end of the day.
And the surprising part? Drop-off isn't that emotional! I did tear up one morning - and he saw me, which I swore I would never allow happen. And he didn't cry, my grownup baby. But since that day, I've been fine. Okay, so it's only a week since then, but it's been the best week ever since mothering for the first time.
