Right now I�m sitting in the Detroit airport. Alone. Well, not really alone, there are hundreds of people milling about and 20 or so at the caf� I�m sitting at. Ok it�s a bar. But there�s a caf� immediately adjacent and the only open outlet was at the bar and mama�s laptop needs constant juice. Mama needed juice too, and debated between the espresso shot or the Griffin Claw IPA to get through the mid afternoon slump. I�ll let you guess which one won.
I digress.
I�m alone, in that for the first time in basically forever, I�m away from Grace. Forever meaning 381 days, or, the totality of her lifetime. (In truth she�s been alive 382 days but I spent one night away from her back in May. And it was painful. Physically. Boobs. Mentally and spiritually it was refreshing. Thanks Megs.)
You see, I�m going back to work this year. My work takes me away from home for a few days at a time, and I cant decide if that�s a blessing or a curse. I think it�s a blessing. I think it�s easier to leave and be gone for four days than have to leave every.single.day. But I�m not sure. I�ll let you know.
The days before this trip have been wrought with some major freaking ANXIETY. Ultimately I know everyone will be fine. But I just can�t shake the feeling that I�m abandoning my child. I texted a dear friend who has a similar job asking her to give me a pep talk that I CAN do this, and she put it so poetically when she said, while Gracie will be fine, �walking out the door goes against every instinct you have.� So true. Is that instinct right? Should I listen to it? Does it need to be kept in check? The pre-mom version of Erin would have been like, suck it up lady, the kid has a dad and it�s important to let the dad be a dad and blah blah blah. But the mom version of Erin �gets it.� I get it, fellow moms! Grace was once a part of my body, and while she hasn�t been a part of me for a while, she�s still always with me, and now she�s not and I feel like I�m missing something. And certainly she�s going to be missing ME because I�m always there and OHMYGOD am I damaging her precious spirit? Have I abandonded her? Is she going have issues for the rest of her life because of this? No. Idiot. But it feels that way. Because I am the one who has been there every day and knows how she eats and what toys she likes today and which books to read. There�s no way she will survive without me! She�s not going to have any fun! Yes she will. Idiot.
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| Am I a mother or a 15 year old girl? smh. (that's for you Al. And Jess) |
And now I�m here, in Detroit, halfway to my destination and you know what? I�m okay. So is my kid. I�m kind of enjoying the fact that I can read a magazine and eat caramel corn and go to the bathroom without having to pray the whole time that Grace doesn�t fall/tumble/crash down the hall/stairway/babygate. But in the midst of my enjoyment, I have this nagging feeling in the back of my brain. Guilt. Let�s open a new can of worms, shall we? As if the abandonment weren�t enough, enter THE GUILT. In this moment, I�m happy, and I feel a little bit guilty about it because I�m not sure if I�m just a happy person who loves life, or if I�m happy because I�m away from my kid, messy house and piles of laundry. What kind of happy am I? Maybe a blend of both? Tell me, fellow moms, that it gets easier to reclaim your identity, independent of your child. Tell me that time makes it easier. I know who I am without Grace but I haven�t been her for a four day stretch in a loooong time and I�m having a hard time finding my footing. I like myself. I like my job. I love being a mom. The mom piece of the pie has been the biggest one for a long time, and will probably be the biggest one forever. But at some point, it has to enhance who I am and not strictly define who I am.
It�s almost time to board my next flight, so I�ll ruminate these things from 50,000 feet and maybe ascending into the heavens will depart some divine wisdom into my brain and I�ll come down with all the answers. If not, I�ll keep on keeping on, knowing my baby is in the best of care with her dad, who is at home, doing the toughest job of all.
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