I'm going back to work in t-15 days. Practice time with grandmothers continues. Yesterday morning we went out to Eltham with the intention of feeding the kid, putting him down to sleep at the usual time of 9.30ish and leaving him there while The Boy and I went to the farm. The kid had other ideas. It was 11.30 before he finally gave in to exhaustion, and only then because we sent the two of them off for a walk in the pram while we drove away behind them. Again with the sobbing. From me, not him.
I know that it will be wonderful for him to spend so much quality time with his grandparents. We're done with breastfeeding during the day, so he doesn't need me that way. Three months ago I was crazy for some time for myself, and although I have the fear about my capacity to use my brain again, I know it will come back. It will be nice to have some money again. All these things are true.
But god, I have my first real case of mother guilt. It's the worse possible timing. My brother has turned up, like the bad penny he is. Dad's memory continues to decline - he hasn't worked in months now - and physical complications have meant mum has had to defer her Master's in order to take care of him. Cutting the breastfeeding down so much has made my period return, accompanied by all the usual associated fun. I got caught up in a Facebook discussion about 'controlled crying' with a bunch of Attachment Parenting disciples and even though I know we have done what felt right for us at every turn, and the point of my contribution was that everyone does the best they can and having judgy asshats for friends helps nobody, I still felt judged. I managed to restrain myself, but I felt the ridiculous desire to justify my choices to strangers; to explain the ins and outs of our particular situation and prove that my kid is just as happy and confident and undamaged as theirs.
The worst thing about this whole situation is that as the days tick by and all I want to do is spend every waking moment soaking him in to my bones, the trial runs continue and I'm spending less and less time with him than I ever have.
*Exhale*. It will be ok. We will all be ok. And in the meantime we have a metric fuckload of blackberries to take our minds off things.