And so it begins

Whew...I'm beat!

It's been a whirlwind of a few days. On Friday we made our big, long-anticipated transition to work and daycare. I'm a generally anxious person on a regular basis, so naturally I started worrying about this day when Elizabeth was about two weeks old. The combination of my own long mental preparation and lots of prayer had me totally relaxed about the transition by the time it came around. When Friday morning rolled around, I felt like a kid on the first day of school--sad about the weeks-long experience I was leaving behind me, but excited about opening a new chapter. And I still felt good dropping her off, saying goodbye to her, passing off her cooler full of bottles. I didn't cry. I felt good driving down the damp, early morning spring streets and listening to the radio, and physically I felt the most put-together and attractive than I had since before giving birth!

And the day itself was just fine. I love my job--the utter busyness of handling multiple projects at once, moving with the energy of a school, gathering data to solve problems. I write at the end of Day 3, and I can safely say it feels good to be there. Even schlepping down to the library 4 times a day to provide food for my daughter is going fine (there is a wonderfully private, secret room deep within the library with a picture of a cow on the door--clearly it's been used for my same purpose for many other moms!).

Day care seems to be going really well. I'm not a logical person--emotions usually drive me--but logic is what I'm depending on to get me through the work days: I know Elizabeth is not going to experience lifelong trauma because she's in daycare. I know she is in a safe place I trust where her needs will be attended to. I know I will get a phone call if something is wrong. I know she is young enough to not miss me. I'm pleased with the intimate, family-like atmosphere of the system, run by a woman who has been doing it for 26 years out of her home, and attended by about 7 children. I already love pulling up in the driveway and seeing the older kids playing on the lawn while Roz and Lori watch over Elizabeth and Thomas (they are two days apart) in their infant seats. It feels comfortable and right to me. I pray the next eight weeks go as smoothly as the first three days!

Thrown right in the middle of the big transition was Elizabeth's baptism, on Sunday April 18. It was such a blessed day. Elizabeth wore the beautiful gown my Aunt Doris made at least 30 years ago, that was worn by me, my sister, my cousins, my Aunt Doris' grandkids...I was beyond thrilled that my daughter carried on the tradition. The baptism itself moved me more deeply than I'd thought it would...I've seen so many during routine Sunday services over the course of my life, but watching my daughter be touched on her forehead with the sign of the cross reminded me of the charge Craig and I have: to teach our daughter about the love of Christ, to fear and obey the Lord. Her spiritual journey begins with us.

It took me a few days to complete this entry. It's now Thursday night and tomorrow we officially wrap up our first week of the new routine. I'm quickly becoming used to the succession of picking up the girl from daycare, playing with her, feeding her, squeezing dinner in there somewhere, making sure the bottles are washed for the next day...and somewhere in there finding time for ME, which unfortunately has become too late at night so that I can have a few minutes of relaxation with TV, blogging, Facebook, etc., once she has gone to bed, no matter how exhausted I am.

We made it through one week. We can do this!