The vacation is over, Mark is gone, River is settled in to the grandparents’ house, and I’m repacked, ready to head out tomorrow with Willow on a 300-mile drive.
Part of me is really excited about the prospect of some time to read, write, think and be on my own. I’m also really excited by the town and the prospect of great food that is reasonably priced. I’m looking forward to meeting smart and interesting people with similar interests who will inspire me.
But another part of me is afraid to be on my own. Last night was a tough one. After waking Willow at 11:30, hoping I’d fill her for the night, she woke to feed at 2:30, then again at 4, and didn’t go back to sleep after that. That nice sleep training we did before the vacation has all been thrown out the window and I’m again chronically sleep deprived.
I fed her in bed, tried to roll over to go to sleep, and she excitedly, and repeatedly, kicked me in the back. At 6 a.m., utterly exhausted, I woke Mark and handed her to him. That allowed me to get a tiny bit of rest.
What will I do when I have no one to hand her to? The family daycare I’ll be sending her to opens at 7:30. So perhaps I’ll drop her off at 7:30, go back to my rented room to sleep, then go back and feed her, then pump, etc. etc. Which will mean not much of that coveted time I imagined.
I’m also worried about the breastfeeding/pumping prospects. Three weeks of frequent pumping have netted me four, yes four, bags of milk. About 32 ounces, I imagine that might last a day, a day and a fraction at most. So I will probably have to make an effort to return to her caregiver and feed her directly when possible.
There is nothing I can do but hope for the best, and be grateful that I’ve found a daycare and some sitters locally. I’ll look upon it as an adventure. Willow and I’s first roadtrip. Wish us luck.