I had my sweet little girl all to myself for about 5 weeks before having to go back to work postpartum. I know, I know—maternity leave in the United States is a little (a lot) behind the times. It was a new job, though, and one that I loved. But I definitely didn’t want to leave her while she was so young.
I’m among those fortunate enough to live near family. I would at least be able to take great comfort in knowing she was loved. Also, cared for in an individualized environment that I trusted to the hilt. I was encouraged by many to leave her in my husband’s care for a few hours as a “test run” prior to returning to work: both for her benefit and mine.
We’d been attached at the hip (read: nipple) for her entire little life. Also, we needed to make sure we’d both adjust to these big changes well. I left her and her papa both with a full stomach, and set out to go get a much-needed pedicure and grab some groceries. It was only for a few hours, right?
I’ve been reading parenting blogs and websites for so long now that I genuinely expected to excitedly burst out of my car at the salon, singing Jason Derulo’s “Solo” all while sucking down a still-cold drink.
I sat in my car nervously at the salon and texted my husband. “She’s asleep,” he confirmed. I felt a bit more at ease as I calmly emerged from my car.
Sweet. Alone. Time. Is there anything as glorious and relaxing as a pedicure?
I wasn’t focused on the massage my calves were receiving, and instead noticed a baby’s cry in the distance—which then made me notice I’d sprung a leak.
The pedicure being done, it’s time to walk over to the grocery store for some fully uninterrupted shopping. It had been over a month since I’d been in here as I kept sending my unsuspecting husband on these runs for me. Time to REALLY get stuff done!
Honestly, I forgot shopping carts were a thing. I wandered a full lap around the store in full postpartum mom-brain mode, because I’d received a text that said she was awake and grumpy. In addition, I came to the baby aisle when I was holding a pack of too-big diapers and, inexplicably, some condoms. I dropped them and went for the cart.
A fully-stocked list, a surprisingly roomy budget, (the sweetest family and friends kept bringing food: y’all are the real MVPs). And time to spare to grab a Starbucks as I meandered with a cart this time around.
I forgot my list, and brought home two boxes of frozen waffles and some peanut butter.
Despite my best intentions, my first postpartum outing alone was nothing short of a disaster. All of those voices screaming at me to “enjoy my alone time!”. And “stop spending all my time with the baby” were drowned out in a big way when I got home from what felt like years away.
Though it’s continued to get easier with time to be away for work and date nights. I would still rather spend my time with my daughter and doing things she can tag along for than most anything else.
My husband would later inform me that I was gone for less than 2 hours on the outing that was supposed to be at least half the day. Sorry not sorry, honey.
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