I'm a pragmatist. I expected the transition to be simply feel annoying, but those feelings quickly turned into overwhelming waves of inadequacy. I was shoved into the reality that I could't do it all and that the twelve months of autonomy with this incredibly cute pooping machine had come to an end.
You basically have to let go of something: working out, socializing, solo time, getting your hair cut, creative down time, hobbies, sneaky foot massages, etc. Something on the plate no longer fits. The kid comes first and then one (or more) things have to go to make room for the beloved task of earning a living. It is so simple and obvious that I feel dumb talking about it and it feels like a first world problem of culture shock.
Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for the full year I had on maternity leave, it just felt like it all went by so incredibly fast. Yes, I know how terribly cliche that sounds but until you're in it you don't realize how true it is. You blink and it's over and you're putting your scrubs on again and shaking your head like, "FUCK. Okay. This again."
I thought I would just go to work and it wouldn't be a big deal but I wasn't prepared for how overwhelming this new set of priorities is. And the guilt.
Even as I write this I feel guilty. I should be taking Jack to the pool. I should be unloading the dishwasher. I should be hanging up my diapers. I should be picking up the bits of breakfast off the floor. I could/should be doing a million other things.
This balance thing isn't easy. I totally get it now why moms stop taking care of themselves. I get it why my parent's social lives were family gatherings. You sacrifice some things, you tweak some things (IE my gym is now Jack's "play group"), you learn to ask for help, but it isn't easy and you just eventually learn to live on less sleep.
