The end, the beginning

It's 6:35 AM when I begin this post, though it'll probably sit in the queue until I remember it's here, hours from now. I sit propped against the headboard, pillows at my back and the baby napping on my chest. He wakes up almost every morning around 6, nurses for 15 minutes, and falls back to sleep. I used to try to motivate myself to get out of bed once he went back to sleep, but it doesn't seem so important anymore. In five days at this time, I'll be scrambling to get our things together and drive Nico to my parents' house before going to work.

I tend to really enjoy my job, but I haven't missed it. I always thought I would, figured I'd be a bit bored and eager to get back after 12 weeks of maternity leave, but that's not the case. Instead I'm heavy-hearted, deeply envious of my Canadian friends and their entire year of leave. How can I go back now, when it seems like every day he's doing something new? I've arranged to work longer days so that I can take Mondays off to spend with my boy. Working 7 AM to 5 PM is going to be a bit brutal, I think. I'm not much of a morning person and spending ten hours a day at work was hard before I had a kid to miss. But I'm hoping it'll be worth it for the extra day at home.

I suspected motherhood would be a big change, and I suppose it is in a lot of accumulated small ways. I also expected there to be a period of adjustment and maybe a struggle to adapt, but it hasn't been hard at all. I feel like I slipped into this new skin so easily it was barely noticeable, as if some physical and emotional railroad switch was thrown and I trundled off in a new direction with barely a backward glance. As much as it stuns me to say out loud I am a mother, I have a son, it is also the most natural and uncomplicated thing.

Nico won't remember these 60 weekdays we spent together, usually just the two of us, but I will never forget. I will hold the memories of these calm hours like a treasure, something to clutch tightly in the days ahead as we adjust to our new routine, our new life.