Today, I’m thrilled to bring you a guest post by my friend Erin of Reluctant Momma. If you don’t already know all about her fabulous blog, you should, so rush over there and visit. Just not before you read her post here.
I could leave the room, the state or the planet, but I would still be someone’s Mommy. The weight of it was incredible.
The sleepless nights were nothing compared to the constant feeling of anxiety. The feeling that something could happen to this precious little lump and there was not a damn thing I could do about it.
I know now that it was one part hormones and two parts post-partum depression. But even now, six years later, as my Monster Monkey heads out the door to school, or to play, or even as he sleeps, that thought tugs at my mind.
I remember sitting in my living room a few months after giving birth. I had just taken my son upstairs and put him to bed in his crib. I returned with the video monitor and adjusted it in my lap. I watched my son lay in his crib, silently sleeping. He was motionless except for a twitch here and there. I looked up at my mother-in-law who was sitting in the living room with me and asked, “When do you stop worrying if they are breathing?”
She looked over at the sofa, where my love, her firstborn sat sleeping with his head against a pillow, exhausted from his long day.
She smiled at me and in a soft voice replied, “Should be any day now.”