There was a happy hour today for TJ at the Domain, so E and I went back. He was spitting up a lot (was lunch at North to blame?), and then it was getting time for him to go to bed, so he and I only stayed about forty-five minutes. It was enough time for me to allow myself two-thirds of a beer, and boy, was it good. At the moment I can't imagine ever wanting to stop breastfeeding, but when I do, I'm really going to look forward to being able to have a couple of drinks. It's been a long time. The most I have now (tonight being an exception) are a few sips of wine.
At the happy hour someone asked me what the longest period of time is that I've been away from Eamon. Wow. I hadn't thought about that before. We determined that the longest time has been four hours, on New Year's Eve. And I didn't really even have fun. My breasts were on their way to being engorged by the end, which made me feel uncomfortable and anxious, and I just didn't feel right being out in the world.
In the first three to four months I used to really need to get out by myself for even half an hour, if only to walk around the block. And yet anytime I was away for any real length of time, I couldn't enjoy myself. Being apart didn't feel natural. I also felt (and still do) as though the rest of the world was racing by at breakneck speed, while I lumbered behind in slow motion with the lights on dim. I hate that feeling.
Being apart would still freak me out, I think, but I wouldn't know because it's been months since I was away from him. I don't need breaks in the same desperate way that I used to. This isn't to say that I shouldn't have them, and I know it would be good for me and TJ to get out alone more, but I almost feel like I wouldn't even know what to do. I eat, sleep, and breathe this baby. He is everything to me. What is it like for moms who work outside the home, I wonder? Is this what it feels like to lose your identity? Funny how it's the same feeling as falling in love.