Working mom for a year

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One year ago today, my maternity leave ended and I went back to work. My little dude was seven weeks old. He was fine, snuggling with the ladies at the daycare we picked, before I had even walked out the door. I returned to work at 8:00am that Monday morning wearing clothes that still didn’t fit right, with an overwhelming feeling of nervousness.

For the past seven weeks I had spent nearly every minute with Oscar. Snuggling him, nursing him and watching him learn before my eyes. Leaving him in the care of other women who themselves are mothers, aunts and grandmothers, calmed my nerves. Returning to work and having my coworkers there to greet me so early in the morning, with a bouquet of flowers and hugs of comfort, was wonderful.

Throughout the past year (and some) I have gone through so many emotions and changes. I’ve learned how to tune out tantrums. I’ve learned how you can love this slobbery, booger covered THING more than anything else in the world. I’ve been more terrified than I have ever been before. More worried. More tired. More loved. More needed.
I’ve spent countless hours alone in a private room pumping milk for Oscar for the next day. I’ve cried, struggled and wondered how the hell I was going to produce enough milk to feed him.
This kid is the best decision I ever made.
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