So last week was my first week back at work. Getting back into the job wasn't too difficult; not much has actually changed in the 26 weeks I was home. Leaving Abigail, however, was a completely different story!
We decided Steve will stay home with her Monday and Tuesday, and she will be in daycare Wednesday-Friday. So my first day back (Monday) she got to spend the day with Daddy! I missed her terribly, but it was bearable. Wednesday was awful.
I brought her to daycare in the morning and they showed me how to sign her in. Then they just wanted me to hand her off to some strange (but very nice) lady through the doorway into the infant room. There were babies everywhere it seemed - on the floor, in cribs, in swings and jumperoos... So I handed over the baby and the bag (with her bottles, change of clothes, wipes). And left. I cried for 10 minutes in the car.
I had so much anxiety. What if she cried all day and they didn't know what to do? What if she doesn't like it there? What if they ignore her? What if something bad happens when I'm not there? And the guilt, oh the guilt. I'm heading off to work and dumping her in some strange place. I should be home with my baby. She's going to grow up hating me.
My brain was swimming. And I cried some more.
Work was busy though, and I only called once the whole day. They lady I talked to said Jelly was happily playing on the floor on her tummy. It made me feel a little better, but I couldn't wait to see for myself.
When they day was finally over I signed her out and poked my head through the doorway. She saw me from across the room and she smiled this enormous beautiful smile and started kicking her legs with excitement. She didn't look like she'd been crying. In fact, they told me she was the happiest, most easy-going baby they have! It was quite a relief. Thursday and Friday came and went, and she did great. I actually did great too, considering how awful the first day was.
Finally it was the weekend, I was so excited to spend 2 whole days with my sweet happy baby. Except when she woke up on Saturday morning, she was crying this pathetic whimpering cry and was just radiating heat. Her temperature was 101.8 and she was miserable! 6 months of not even a sniffle, and after 3 days of daycare she was sick as a dog. Her fever broke by Sunday night, but the mucus and cough linger on. Le sigh. At least we both made it through the first week, and if getting a cold is the worst thing that happened, then I think we did ok!
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