The last vacation I went on was our honeymoon. J and I drove around Auvergne, France and enjoyed the newlywed bliss while hoping and praying pregnancy would come to us in the near future. I can’t remember us talking about it, but for some months it had been an extra passenger in our relationship – always there, but not necessarily speaking up.
This year vacation is very different. J has three weeks, which began last Friday, and the extra passenger is now the baby we dreamed off and hoped for. This morning J asked if it was Thursday alreday and I said yes, and he wondered where the last couple of days had gone, vacation week number one halfway gone already.
A lot of the five past days has been spent on our backs with BOM on our chests. Her stomach ache reached unknown heights Tuesday night with crying fits that made me google baby colic, we tried and tried to get her to calm down. We both felt desperate and rejected, but we got through the night and yesterday and when the fits (this time not as bad but still) began, we placed ourselves in front of the TV and BOM on J’s chest and watched two episodes of Mad Men. It won’t work again, I know, because these things only work once, but it gave us an evening that was more like the once we used to have before she came, and we needed that.
Next week is “going away week”. We are taking BOM to the other end of the country and visiting both sets of grandparents. The past couple of days have made me worry about the trip, but J is right when he tells me we have to go, we have to get out of the house, have to take her places and see how it goes. And if it doesn’t we’ll figure out what to do then.
I am lucky to have him by my side. He makes sure I get out of the house, that I see, explore, stay sane.