Most of my maternity leave was spent learning how to cope and console a colicky baby. The month of October is a blur completely. It felt like it would never end at the time but now it seems like it didn't happen at all.
November was the month of improvements; smiles and coos, more peaceful evenings and the tentative "is she better?" exchanged between us. I started to venture out more; attending my board meetings and joining friends for lunch. It wasn't exactly the idyllic maternity leave I had imagined and I wasn't at all the "superstar new mom" taking baby everywhere without a second thought. No, this took a lot of planning and gumption to get out of the house. I held my breath a lot. I sang (horribly, mind you) Bob Dylan at the top of my lungs to persuade my daughter that I was in the car, with her, and in it for the long haul. We would get through this together. We would. Even if it only meant getting to the grocery store.
But December was when the switch seemed to flip. I could read her (usually) and she trusted me enough to pause in her shrieks when I told her it would be okay. And then time really flew. It is amazing to me that we are expected to return to the workforce when our offspring is still so helplessly dependent and when we are only just beginning to learn how to live with one another, yet, we must and I have. Those 15 days of December will be cherished. With Pete home and the Bear happy, it seemed like I had finally gotten the motherhood I was expecting.
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