I have a confession to make. I don’t remember my first day back at work after Baby Girl was born. I remember, or perhaps just know that it was a Monday. It was November 2nd. It was supposed to be the last Friday in October, but I mixed up the days and the OB wrote my permission slip for the wrong day.
I had been keeping up with work through e-mail, so there were no major fires to put out. Some people were surprised I was back, but they dropped it surprisingly fast.
I filed some paperwork so I could go on my conference trip that Friday, with a lengthy apology for how late the paperwork was. (The administration fully understood.)
I went to my office and pumped for the first time outside of my house. And halfway through realized I should tape something in the small window in my door. Whoops.
I used a copy of a publishing agreement for an article that had been approved right before I left on leave. It was just lying around. I kept It up the entire time I pumped (about a year.) I always meant to put something more interesting up – or at least more normal? – but I never got around to it.
My husband was keeping Baby Girl just like he does now, so he texted and sent pictures. She mostly slept.
By the time I got home about five hours later, I was sore again and glad to have her nurse.
I don’t remember if I went back after lunch.
I don’t remember if I cried, or if I was relieved.
I don’t remember who wished me well or who I avoided.
Looking back, I think I was still in shock, a bit. Her birth wasn’t normal and I wasn’t prepared to be a mom. And I certainly wasn’t getting enough sleep. Both of those things are good reasons not to remember. It’s probably fairly normal. But it bothers me.
If it’s going to bother you that you might not remember, I suggest keeping a diary. You could always throw it away later.