For the past eleven and a half weeks, Zygote and I have been, quite literally, attached. Because of nursing, I hadn't really been away from her for more than a couple of hours here and there. In the insane, sleep-deprived weeks after she was born, this fact could send me into a tailspin, with lots of tears and moaning about how everyone else got to go someplace cool except me. Insert eye roll here.
YG and I both think that it's important to spend time away from kids for a number of reasons, but the first being that you should have some time to reconnect (ew, Hallmark word) and remember why exactly you wanted to have kids with this person in the first place. My parents went on a vacation by themselves every year, and we hope to do the same.
So we began planning. At the start of the summer, I could not wait to get away. It didn't matter where. I just didn't want to be here. I didn't want to constantly be feeding and doing laundry and crying. I wanted out. I know this was all post partum hormones raging, but when you're in it, it's hard to see that it's temporary.
We scheduled a trip to Atlantic City. At first, we were planning to spend a full week away, but we couldn't line up my parents for babysitting duty for a full week, so we decided on a two-night stay. I started dutifully pumping and preparing.
And then I didn't want to go. That's probably not entirely true. I wanted to go, but I was afraid of missing Zygote too much while I was gone. I've gone from hating this attachment to enjoying it and accepting that laundry and feedings and elastic waist pants are my life for a while now. I also became paranoid, thinking about all the things that could go wrong while she was with my parents (who have raised three semi well-adjusted children) for two days. They could get in a car accident. They could think it was too cold and swaddle her in too many blankets and then she would suffocate. They could trip and fall while carrying her. She could get attacked by deer (seriously, this one woke me up out of a deep sleep). Or worst, she would do totally fine and not miss me at all. Or worst worst, she would do totally fine and take to the bottle and not need the one thing I can exclusively give her and not need me anymore.
I am not normal.
I cried a little in the bathroom this past Thursday when we were getting ready to leave her but knew, deep down, that YG and I needed this trip, and that my parents would enjoy their time with her. It was fabulous. We gambled and spent a whole day doing nothing but sleeping late, swimming in the pool and drinking and eating and gambling some more. We read books and magazines and watched Sports Center uninterrupted. I drank a ton of girly drinks and wore dresses and regular bras and praise Jesus, stillettos. I missed her terribly, but I had a blast.