The Last Day of This Life

Today feels eerily similar to the day before I was due to welcome my baby into the world.  There is the same stillness, calm-before-the-storm type of quiet that you can’t help but feel really uncomfortable by.

The day before I gave birth was filled with so many emotions, a lot them driven by fear and a state of shock that i couldn’t shake, so I chose to barricade myself in my bedroom with a Chipotle burrito and the TV remote.

Well, today feels the same.  Minus the burrito, or the ability to barricade myself in my bedroom with a teething infant making her presence known throughout the house. Ok, Ok, I AM at home, trying to snuggle with Bella while I snack on dark chocolate.

This is the last weekday I’ll ever have as a stay-at-home mama, the last morning I was able to wake up to the sound of Bella stirring in her crib instead of an alarm, the last day of doing nothing but meeting my daughters needs at every moment.  The last day of what has been undoubtedly the longest stretch of happiness, pure bliss rather, that I have ever experienced in my whole life.

So naturally, I am mentally and emotionally paralyzed today.  I left the house without my wallet this morning, left my coffee cup on top of the car before pulling out of the driveway, and for the first time in months, didn’t even bother putting makeup on before leaving the house.  I can’t think straight, I am on the border of panic – it’s hard to breathe.  Everything, EVERYTHING is about to change, and I have no control over it.  I so desperately want to be the Badas$ mama I wrote about weeks ago, and I know I can be, I just didn’t realize it would come this quickly.

As of Monday, Bella will be in day care full-time because I will be back to work full-time.  My brain will now have to split itself into a total of 20 different compartments.

  1. Bella
  2. Husband
  3. House
  4. Dog
  5. 5- 20. All of my new students

Notice how I didn’t even include myself or my family on that list, wow, scary.  Well, I guess this will be the new normal, a new normal I am forced to get used to.

I know, in reality, it won’t be as bad, or as hard, as I am anticipating – nothing ever is.  But each time I look at my daughter today, I can’t help but think about the fact that between the hours of 8am and 4pm, every single day of the week, I won’t have the ability to look at her.  Is it just me, or is her smile cuter than ever today?

Each time I look at my daughter, I can’t help but think about that the fact that many other women will have the privilege and honor of staring at my daughter all day (and yes ladies, it IS an honor) as they try to meet her needs throughout the day.  Is it just me, or am I the only one who understands her language?

Each time I look at my daughter, I can’t help but grow an enormous lump in my throat, and try to quickly swallow it so that she doesn’t see me cry.  Is it just me, or is my daughter the only one who senses when I’m sad, and starts to giggle to cheer me up?

I have spent the last 6 months and 2 weeks falling more and more in love with my child.  She has been a part of my daily routine, she has become my daily routine actually, and to say I have enjoyed every second of it is a huge understatement.  We have bonded on a level that I can’t even explain, she has a smile that she reserves only for me, and now she has finally learned to put her mouth on my cheek as an attempt to kiss me!

Jeez, here comes that lump again, taking over my throat.  Bella is napping now, so please excuse me while I cry.

While I cry, I hear the annoying advice I’ve received about this issue replaying over and over in my head.  Only it’s not annoying, it’s true, I just don’t want to hear it.  People insist on informing me of the benefits of becoming a working mom, and how day care will be wonderful for my already well-socialized and outgoing daughter.

So from now on, I’ll have to remind myself that this advice is proven and true.

From now on, every time I wake up to the sound of my alarm clock, I’ll be driven out of bed by the thought that what I am doing will ultimately be the best thing for my child – socially, emotionally, and financially.

From now on, every time I pull into the parking lot of our new school, I’ll unclick Bella’s car seat with a smile instead of tears, because I know she’ll light up with joy as soon as she enters her new room full of toys and smiles.

From now on, every time I hear a student say, “You’re the best teacher in the world, Mrs. D!”, I’ll know how proud my daughter will one day be when she can understand what this means.

And from now on, every time I look at the face I love most, the one I grew in my own body, I’ll thank my lucky stars for being able to feel the pangs of leaving her, because this pain comes from love – the greatest love I’ve ever known.

This is the last day of THIS life, but the start of a whole new one, one that my daughters face will always make happier.

Like two peas in a pod.
Like two peas in a pod.

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