We’re ba-aaaack! After a short (and unintentional) hiatus, that is. You see, recently I had to do the most difficult thing I’ve had to do since giving birth — I had to leave my baby overnight. 🙁
That’s right…in mid-February I had to take a business trip. It was 3 days, 3 nights, all expenses paid to balmy Minnesota. When I think about the continental United States, the one state I’d prefer NOT to travel to in February would probably be Minnesota. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I don’t like the state… but considering I come from Maine it’s not like it’s exciting for me when it starts snowing in the middle of a conference call. Whereas everyone else (who happen to come from the warmer, southern states) will look out the window shouting “It’s like a snow globe!”
Yeah, seen it, kthnx.
But, hold on to your butts, it gets better. Not only was I required to travel to an even colder
climate – I had to leave on Valentine’s Day. Amazing. And to top it off, I had to leave my 3 month old behind. Fan-fucking-tastic.
Don’t get me wrong – I actually enjoy going on business trips. Because I work remotely, it’s really great to catch up with my colleagues IRL. There’s just something about the thrill of running through O’Hare from terminal B to terminal F, wind in your hair and only 5 minutes to spare, knocking over the jackass that just stands there on the moving walkway. I only have mild anxiety thinking about how I’m going down alone when the plane crashes. But, usually that subsides when I make small talk with my seat buddy to feel out whether or not they will let me bear hug them in the event of an emergency.
Needless to say, though, I really wasn’t looking forward to this trip as much as I usually do. First, before I left, there was the anxiety of leaving enough milk behind for Charlie. Second, the anxiety that I wouldn’t be able to pump while I was busy in conference and at dinners, resulting in engorgement, sever pain, and an utterly-embarrassing leakage incident. Third, the fear that my milk would completed dry up due to #2.
I was able to freeze about 100 ounces of milk before I left. I had the milk all partitioned into brown paper bags, ounces counted carefully, labeled specifically for each time of day. Because clearly Tristan needed to take the night feeding milk from the bag labeled “Night Feedings” only. Anal much?
Fourth, and most irrationally (yet seriously), I was worried that something would happen to Charlie while I was gone. I kept envisioning myself running through the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport frantically screaming that I needed to get home to him… Like, think, a rogue icicle piercing through his carrier while Tristan walked out of the house, or that he’d learn to roll and tangle himself up in blankets while sleeping and suffocate himself – even though he doesn’t sleep with blankets, and in a Rock N Play that doesn’t allow him to roll. That’s what I was thinking because, srsly, you never know.
Thank god for my patient hubby who handled my panicked text messages and phone calls without making me feel like the basket case I was…for example:
I mean, I consider this series of text messages to be pretty mild considering, in reality, I was sitting in a meeting, thinking in my head, Oh my god, he’s not writing back because they are IN THE HOSPITAL and he didn’t have time to call. My child is dead and they don’t know how to tell me! ….If he doesn’t write me back in 5 minutes…I am going to call Maine Medical Center.
Also add to my list of concerns a.) that he would forget what I looked like and who the hell I was, b.) that he would have achieve a milestone and I’d miss it, c.) I’d get stuck in a snow storm and he’d be forced to have his first bottle of formula and he’d have some crazy, horrible reaction, and d.) [Insert any other irrational thought here.]
But, we made it. We survived another first.
Charlie had plenty of milk – thanks to my handy, brown bag, rationing system. My boobs didn’t crap out on me in the process. Charlie was not impaled by any icicles and didn’t end up in the hospital for any reason. He didn’t learn to walk or say “da da.” And when I got home at midnight he most certainly remembered me – or, at least he remembered the boob, and that was good enough for me.
For my success, I’d like to thank all the little people – my Medela Breast Pump for always being there to support me. Apple’s FaceTime for allowing me to video chat with my cutie-pie each morning. The grandmothers for their continued support of my husband during this trying 3-day span. And of course, the man… the myth… the legend himself…my awesome husband for being the best guy and Papa in the whole wide world!
Now let’s just hope we don’t have to do it again for another year.