When I pictured the maternity leave I was about to embark upon a year ago, I visualized a mountain. Six months climbing to the top of the peak, or halfway point, and then clambering back down the last six months which would end with my return to work.
During the first six months of my maternity leave, I felt like I had all the time in the world. I had a full year ahead of me to fill with the comings and goings of life and raising a baby. I expected that the clock would start ticking marking the end of this glorious year when we hit the six month mark. For some reason it didn’t. I had a very long six months left to enjoy.
For the first six months of mat leave, I lived and thought in the present. I didn’t want to think about tomorrow, the day after it, or next week. I didn’t care to think about life post-mat leave. I wanted to snuggle with my baby, nurture her, photograph her, and fully drink the baby kool-aid. Mat leave is indulgent and decadent. It’s given me the precious gift of time to raise my baby.
As the winter days began to get darker and shorter, and are slowly becoming longer again, my leave expiration date looms in the not so distant future. I have 11 weeks left with my baby. I have 11 weeks left to cram in a whole lot of enjoyment and leisure with my big kids. I only have 11 weeks left. 11 weeks.
That’s no time at all. Yet all the time in the world.