Nine Days Without Baby

I’m on my way to a writer’s conference and for this trip, I’m leaving baby at home. I’ll be away from him for nine nights – three times as long as I’ve been away before.

When we spent our first weekend apart, I worried until I knew he arrived safely at his grandparents’ home. Then I enjoyed the quiet.

When I left for three days, I enjoyed myself, but missed him intensely by the end. I had his favorite song stuck in my head, I could feel the phantom of his little body in my arms. I returned home, eager to hug and hold him. He’d just learned to roll over the day before. When I came in, he glanced up at me, then went back to smiling at the babysitter.

For this trip, I started missing River two days before I even left. I treasured the long morning feeding, I stroked his soft, smooth skin, hoping I could take the feeling with me and maintain it over a week. I’m grateful that my estrogen levels are still very low, due to breastfeeding. Otherwise, I’m sure I would have left in tears.

I’ve now been away two hours and am at an airport Starbucks. I miss him already. But at the same time, it’s such a treat to be able to sit peacefully and write as I wait for my flight. I haven’t been able to do this since before he was born and it’s a luxury I now appreciate.