Tomorrow will begin my last week on maternity leave. All I am left with is this bittersweet feeling. It felt like just yesterday I was forty weeks, throwing in the towel, hoping she would come before the scheduled induction date.

Every contact nap, every morning smile over coffee, every sleepy milk drunk look, and every dirty diaper is heavier than what it use to be.

I would be lying if I said part of me didn’t miss being at work – helping the sick and injured animals is what I am passionate about, the reason I’m finishing school.

But a huge part of me will always wish I was at home with her. Even if that meant all the blowout diapers, spit up down your shirt, and hard nights where no one got any sleep. It makes me feel nostalgic for those early days when it was just the three of us at home learning how to communicate.

My head is filled with those new mom guilt driven questions – did I spend enough time with her? Did I hold her enough when she slept? Should I have sat down more, cleaned less? Will she miss me? Will she even know that I am gone?

I am more relieved that instead of dropping her off at a day care, we will be leaving her with her grandparents. Plus, my first two weeks back at work will be part-time, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday.

I’m beyond grateful for this new chapter in my life: Parenthood.

I think I need a glass of wine.