Today is my final day of paternity leave. Technically, it should've ended around LG's first birthday, because FMLA only covers that sort of thing for 12 months after a life-changing event. But for one reason or another, I had to go to work on a few paternity days over the past year, and so I worked it out with my boss that I'd take those extra days after my term was officially done. Frankly, since I didn't start taking the days until LG was three months old, I don't feel at all bad about stretching it out. I only wish we could make it last longer.
It's a cliche, but a lot has changed in the last 10 months. To be honest, when I first started taking these days off with LG by myself, I wasn't exactly sure what I was doing. Sure, I had watched her on my own for a few hours here and there while Hollie worked part of a weekend, or went out the occasional evening. But by and large, it hadn't just been me and the baby for a whole day, 1-2 days a week.
It wasn't as though I was worried about it, per se, but it's fair to say that you don't feel like a parent--I mean, really, like a parent--until you've taken care of your kid from the moment they wake up in the morning until you lay them down for the night. Naps, feedings, just doing stuff all day long, all while trying to keep after the house, and feed yourself from time to time. It's big. To all those out there doing this every day, I raise a glass in salute.*
* By no means does my experience, by the way, compare to Hollie's. She did it for three months, during the hardest part, and suffered from pneumonia for the bulk of that time.
However I felt at the beginning, whatever trepidation I may have had then, I'm comfortable now. I think I do most of the things I'm supposed to do. I watch her, but I don't hover. I protect her, but I don't live in constant fear of the unknown. We play, but I let her choose how (most of the time. I can only play "take everything out of the toybox" so many times in one day).
When I started this, she had no teeth. Now she has nine. Then, she couldn't talk. Now, she can say "Dada" when she feels like it, has a litany of animals noises at her disposal, and will proudly point out every shoe in the house. She certainly couldn't walk then; I'm not even sure she could push herself up on her arms. Now, in bare feet, socks or shoes, she runs.
When I started this, she barely smiled, and I'm pretty sure it was just mimicry most of the time. Now, when she smiles, I know she's happy. I know I am.
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