So, it has been an emotional week at the Kerr house to say the least. I like to lead a life of control and I am not one who finds it easy to relinquish that control or ask for help from others, but I got a call last week from my doctor telling me that test results had not come back very good in regard to blood pressure, blood work and some other workups. So, I had to leave work and head to the office to see what was up.
Baby looks great and he is definitely a boy. But, mom is not so great. I feel ashamed in admitting that because I feel like I am an active, healthy person. I've carried two other healthy babies and I've worked up until the day before I delivered both. However, here I sit on the 12th of September on my couch typing because I am not at work. And I am not due until October 26th. A whole month early. A whole month of failure. A whole month of wondering what my kids are going to do in my absence and if everything will go ok. A whole month of being off work with no baby. A whole month of people judging me and the fact that I'm not there, probably talking about how lucky I am. Or worse yet, what if they think I'm faking it?
My doctor is very adamant that work was contributing to my blood pressure issues and it is best to take it easy. Not bedrest, but basically nothing strenuous or stressful. Coworkers, friends, and many others keep telling me "enjoy it!" "rest" "take advantage"... And I've cried about this...a LOT. But I think back to my daughter Sawyer, almost 9 years ago, when I was a brand new teacher starting my first job. I had her six weeks into the school year and I was back teaching when she was 6 weeks old. I have told everyone that is one of my deepest regrets. I didn't spend enough time with her. I didn't enjoy her the way I should have. She was the first experience I ever had with motherhood and I short changed myself and her all for fear of what people thought of me as a professional.
Here's the problem. We put such pressure on people, especially moms, to do it all. We expect women to have healthy pregnancies while working the whole time, barf in their work bathrooms, keep up with whatever workloads they are expected to do up until the day baby is born, give them six weeks to recover, and get back at it again. That's our norm. That's what society expects. That's what I expected. Until now.
For my second baby, Harper, almost 4 years ago now, I worked like a madwoman up until I had her, but I took 12 weeks off. I trusted my substitute immensely, and it was the best three months of my life. I held my baby, I rocked my baby, I watched her grow, and I enjoyed almost every second. I went to my kindergartner's class and volunteered, baby in tow. I saw and felt what it was like to be JUST a mom, without the other items I am attached to it. I came to realize that time that I spent away from other obligations really did make me a better, more patient, less anxietal mom. I know that choice to take extra time away was the right one for me and my family, even if it was an expensive one.
However, I almost had myself talked out of this for my third time because I had to leave work unexpectedly and very early. I really contemplated coming back 6 weeks after mini Mr. is born because I felt like I wasn't being fair to my co-workers and my place of employment by staying home for 12 weeks with baby because I have to take this month of right now for me and my health in exchange for a healthy baby. But the doctor said something to me that changed my thinking. He asked how I would feel if I didn't do what he asked, if I kept going into work, kept doing all the planning, and I had the baby 7 weeks early with underdeveloped lungs and other systems and he had to stay in the hospital and I couldn't bring him home. I wouldn't be able to enjoy my time with him because he'd be hooked up to monitors and tubes, or worse...something that I'm not even going to type. This would be by my own choosing, because I wouldn't relinquish my control and delegate some of my duties to others, causing undue stress to myself, and in turn the baby.
I caught myself. I was a fraud and a fake. I was not thinking about my baby. I was thinking about that other hat I wear- that professional one. My number one goal in my job is to look out for the best interest of my kids. I care for them, I make sure they are safe, I do what is best for them, and every decision I make is to ensure that happens. And, yes, I think that I am the best person for that job. Yet, here I was legitimately not doing the same for my unborn son. I wasn't thinking about what was in his best interest, or even my daughters', or my husband's- what if something happened to me, their mom, his wife, because I didn't slow down? What if something happened to this baby that we have been so excited to meet and we've prepared for and we talk about constantly? I was actually putting all of that at risk because of my pride and the pressure I place on myself to do it all.
So, as hard as it is for me to not be at work taking care of my kids, or not vacuum my floor a few days a week, or ask for help, I'm going to do it. This is my last baby, This is the last inhabitant of my body...forever. This is the last life I will give. This is the last tiny head I will sniff. This is the last tiny human I'll diaper, and swaddle, and feed, and burp, and rock to sleep. With every action, I'll keep thinking of how it is the last one. So, I've made a conscious effort to enjoy every minute and to take every hour I can away from my work and prepare for this precious boy who is already so loved. It will all be there when I am ready to go back.
