Back to Work

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Answering the Call / General Musings / Parenting Skills and Spills / Wrestling with Angels

Today was my first day back from maternity leave. It was not the best day. To begin with, it was cold (like high of 48F cold) and rainy all day. The baby woke me up at 5. I nursed him for a while, was able to get up and use the bathroom, and then checked my phone for a bit and was just about to get up and be productive when the Peanut woke up, and he wanted to nurse as well. I heard C up and getting ready for school. Around 6:20, I noticed I hadn’t heard any noise from Girl-E. I freed myself from the toddler and went to check on her. I asked C if she was awake, and he said yes, but when I called her name, I got no answer, and when I went into her room, she was fast asleep. I woke her up, and she made the bus–but her brother got his phone taken away for lying when Dude said he’d done the same thing yesterday.

Whether it was due to the rocky start to my morning or my anxiety about returning to work (or some of both), I was in a grumpy mood the rest of the day, and definitely not the kind of parent I want to be, which always makes me feel terrible.

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Peanut’s Birth Story, Part 1

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Family Ties

The pregnancy had been going smoothly. I’d been exercising even through a cold New Hampshire winter, letting myself indulge in whatever treat I wanted, (although the craving I most remember was for steak tip salad), working my regular church job as well as a few hours part time at a spice shop, and was feeling good. I’d made it through Easter, and was planning on pinning down all the details necessary for my maternity leave, which would start when the baby was born. I was due May 25, Memorial Day, and we were hoping for a home birth, although we weren’t sure which home.

In early February, we’d begun a renovation project with the intention of moving out of the church parsonage and into the house Dude owned in a neighboring town. As these things tend to do, the initial “kitchen cabinets and a couple floors” idea took on a life of its own, and it eventually became a whole-house renovation. We had explained our timeline to the contractors, and were hopeful–but not very optimistic–that we could have the birth in the new house. My midwife, Sarah, was flexible; as long as we had a comfortable space somewhere and running water, she was game, and the home visit was set for 36 weeks.  Read More