Bye Bye Baby
Five days after I delivered Naomi, I left for nearly a month. My husband had 5 weeks of paternity leave so I packed up a suitcase, drove to Philadelphia and checked into an AirBnb… by myself. Three weeks without my family- no breastfeeding, no cooking, no cleaning, no laundry, no nighttime awakenings with my newborn, no diaper changes, no bubble baths, no distractions. Three weeks in a brick studio on the corner of Addison and 17th Street with my muse.
Several months before that, Ricky made a proposition.
“Maybe you should finish your book during maternity leave,” he casually let the idea out one night after dinner.
I gave him the side eye, “Oh yeah? And recover from labor, take care of the newborn and the kids?”
I had been using my Saturday nights for writing after putting the babies down. When I finished my writing workshop, got pregnant again and put in more hours at the hospital during a staff shortage, my Saturday night writing sessions started getting skipped. Eventually, my memoir writing disappeared altogether for a few weeks and Ricky noticed.
“No I mean, you go away, sit down and finish it. I’ll take care of the kids while your gone.”
“Wait, really?” I asked then asked again and again over the coming weeks for months until he convinced me he was serious. I had written enough of the book that this was a reasonable plan and the idea was pretty exciting.
I think many mothers can agree that when you have a baby/babies, your life’s momentum slows down. Your goals come second to your newborn and your newborn is all-consuming. Even female powerhouses like Michelle Obama took breaks from their careers when they had young children. The question is whether you come back from your break and see your dreams through or let them go to devote yourself to another very important purpose of being a mom. I struggled with these mixed feelings a lot. I wanted to be a great and selfless parent but not at the sacrifice of my passion so would that make me a selfish mother? Sometimes I still don’t know. However, I’m not convinced that being a great mom is equivalent to being selfless. In fact, being myself is exactly what I want to pass onto my children.
So we agreed and started planning for this unusual plan. Ricky and I started parent leave the day before my scheduled induction to get everything we needed to get the house together. Skylar who is 2 would continue daycare and Maverick who just turned 1 would start. Naomi would stay home with Daddy, bottle feed right from the start and hire a night nanny several nights a week so he could get some sleep to take care of everyone.
After delivering Naomi and staying at the hospital for one night, we came home. My mother left for her own summer break and we got adjusted to the our new night nanny. I started packing for my trip a few days later but it didn’t feel real until the night of check-in and I physically had to drive to the city. I didn't want to go. Skylar and Maverick were getting to know Naomi. Skylar was more attached to me than ever and Maverick just became a big brother. Maverick was having a hard time at daycare, crying hysterically at drop-off and pick-up. My happy boy didn’t smile in any of the photos they were sending home. I looked at Naomi, milk-drunk and passed on Ricky’s shoulder. My precious girl was 5 days old. How could I leave?
“You should go babe. It’s already dark and I don’t want you driving and getting there too late,” Ricky insisted. I rolled out my luggage and headed to Philly. For over an hour, I questioned our decisions and how unfair this was to everyone except for me. I couldn’t help but get tearful in my thoughts.
I parked in a nearby garage and plugged the address in my phone to walk to the AirBnB. It felt so strange carrying my own bag, no babies to get from the carseat and walking without a stroller. Walking a few blocks in an unfamiliar city is something that I have always loved- the hustle, the lights, the buildings- and tonight, I could hardly recognize who I was without my family. I checked into a quiet space and Ricky was fast asleep by the time I called.
The next morning, I had snapped out of my disorientation. As the day went on, a sense of urgency began to build. I needed to get home to my family and I’m not taking any a day more to get this book written than the 3 weeks I have. With the exception of Father’s day when I drove home and spent the night, I was determined to spend every minute finishing my memoir. With uninterrupted sleep, I was up at 7am and drank my coffee while reading. By 8am, I was at my laptop. The first couple of days, it was difficult to get back into the routine of writing. Some parts of the books, I had not read for months and I had to go back to see where would be the best place to pick up, where it felt natural to start creating again. I allowed myself to get lost in the process from 8am to 10pm every single day whether that was writing, reading, editing, brainstorming, mood boarding, outlining or researching. By the second week, my writing was flowing and I loved it. I had not written in consecutive days in so long and it was invigorating. I allowed myself to be consumed by the book in place of where my family usually stands. I packed frozen dinners so that I wasted no time cooking, cleaning or eating. I packed coffee and wine so I wouldn’t have to leave the studio. I had plenty of ibuprofen, Tylenol and postpartum care products because I was still sore from delivery, still bleeding! And I was starting to produce breastmilk which was uncomfortable. After a full day staring at my computer screen, I would wind down and talk to Ricky to catch up on him and the babies. This call kept me going and seeing them on FaceTime made me want to work harder.
The book was written on the day of check-out. I watched hundreds of pages print at FedEx feeling relief and excitement. I drove home, I kissed them hard and we popped champagne. Ricky looked exhausted. The 3 kids were happy and healthy.
When Ricky and I started putting a real plan for my writing sabbatical (I like to call it), I mentioned it to a few people. Some people called us a renaissance couple and others didn’t know how to respond. One person was so surprised that he asked how my husband would handle that since men don’t have the instinct that mothers do. He’s a parent, he’s the father of my children, we created these lives together. His instinct may be different but just as strong as mine. I wondered if I told this person that my husband had a project to complete which required several weeks shortly after me having a child, would his reaction be the same. Probably not.
In the grand scheme of life, it’s three weeks. Three weeks that no one will remember except me and Ricky. At the end of it, I was able to accomplish a lifelong goal that I could not give up. At the end of it, I have become more grateful for my husband than I ever have been. He believes in me more than I believe in myself and his support goes beyond these 3 weeks. At the end of it, I can show, not tell, my children that they can not only do anything but they should not compromise who they are and their purpose no matter what. At the end of it, I can spend time and give energy to my family without feeling like I’m missing out on my dreams. I can be present.
