The last time I blogged using these Whitney lyrics as a title, I barely knew what day of the week it was; I’d come through the baby blues and was just about starting to adjust to life with a newborn baby, in a town I wasn’t used to with bags under my eyes big enough to do a weekly shop in.
Fast forward ten months and the bags are the same but the town, the baby and I are very different. The joy of being back in London doesn’t (and never will) wear off, but poor Zee is confronted with his mother once again crying on a daily basis; not because I am trying to adjust to him being here, but because I am very much struggling with how I will adjust when he isn’t. In fact, when we both isn’t. Aren’t.
In three weeks I go back to work and Zee starts nursery. After almost a whole year with him, it is difficult to accept that soon I won’t be with him all day, every day. Thousands of women must face this scenario week in, week out, but obviously I never understood before how heart wrenching it is; the idea of not seeing your baby every day for an extended period of time. Some evenings, okay most evenings when Zee is in bed, I scroll through photos of our day. Sometimes I whisper to H ‘Do you think Zee would really mind if I just went and gave him a cuddle . . .’ Of course, I never would, but . . . I miss him when he’s asleep. How is it going to feel really having to be away from him?
The problem isn’t work; I like my job, I have great friends there, it’s an amazing location and we spend our days surrounded by and thinking, talking, brainstorming and enthusing about books. The problem is that when my baby cries, or holds his arms up for a hug, or needs a bottle or his nappy changed, or beams his enormous mischievous grin, or crawls or *oh god* starts walking and talking, I Will Not Be There. Somebody else, a stranger to me and to Zee, will be there for him when these things happen. That is the problem. Zee is going to a good nursery; we are 100% happy with it, the staff, the other children, the place. He will have a whale of a time once he gets used to it. But I cannot be the one to drop him off there on his first morning; I cannot arrive at my first day at work since I left there in floods of tears in November 2012, still in floods of tears, they might ask me to turn around and go away again.
In the meantime, I am enjoying every single last precious moment we spend together before it all changes. Whilst secretly wondering if I can get away with sitting him in my desk drawer and occasionally asking him to help me write blurbs and decide on the word of the day.