What am I "leaving"?

Well, here I am - on mat leave. Once again, while my husband rushes off to the rat race, I stay tucked cozily at home, my little girl sleeping fitfully in her swing. The concerns of my workplace seem distant and trivial now, compared with the tiniest grunt of dissatisfaction issuing from that swing. Gone are my tan leather stiletto boots, Coach bag and wrap dress. In their place - Joe Fresh leggings, a grungy tank top, a nursing bra and a sweatshirt. Gone are the days of regular showers, "poor me" moments when I got less than 8 hours of sleep, straightened hair, regular meals, and...time.

So, what am I "leaving" on mat leave? I guess, in a way, I'm leaving a part of myself behind for awhile. I'm leaving my selfishness, and part of my dignity. I'm leaving a good chunk of my sleep, and a somewhat equal portion of my sanity. I'm leaving my career for awhile, and the pleasures of adult rhetoric and analytical thinking.

But what am I coming to in their stead? I am coming into the love of a little girl who is new to this place, I am coming into the unbelievably important and awe-inspiring role of a role model and a teacher. I am coming into a beautiful family of four. I am coming into the role of a mom - and all the adventures and misadventures that that implies. How does this make me feel? A little terrified, to be honest. I'd forgotten all about the foggy, sleepless nights with a restless, grunting baby writhing at your side, the sheets damp from breast milk. I'd forgotten about the constant scrutiny and judgement that you're faced with at every turn. Oh, the baby's not sleeping? Oh, you're topping her up with formula? Oh, you haven't enrolled her in eight zumba and baby yoga and Beethoven for tots courses yet? I'd forgotten about the moments when you tip-toe around your own living room, hoping to goodness that the weight of your footfall on the hardwood won't wake the finally napping infant in her swing..the desperate creep to turn the endless banal lullabye back on when it ends its song. The desperation and anger and sheer misery that wells up in you when you have a baby crying endlessly in your arms, obviously in pain.

Yet, I'm also honoured. And awe-struck. And in love. Whenever she turns her little almond-shaped eyes up at me, I can't believe how I feel. It's just a sense of pure wonderment. How did I get so lucky? First my beautiful, beloved George. Now Ada-Marie and me. We're unbelievably lucky and in spite of my anxieties and fears, I feel unbelievably privileged to embark on this adventure once more with Ada-Marie. This is a place for me to write, to explore how I feel about it all, to record the year that I will be spending with my little girl as she grows and learns and becomes a little person in her own right. I only hope that I will grow and learn and discover more about myself as a person in my own right as well. It's not going to be all rainbows and cupcakes and kittens. It's got to be honest, for my sake. So bear with me, if you happen to fall on this page. It's more for my own benefit that anything, but I am pleased to share my thoughts as well.

So, welcome to the world little Ada-Marie! You are so very loved and you are in for one heck of an adventure.