Letters to Luc: Divided (Month 4)

Dear Luc,

You are four months old. We took our first overnight trip with you, visiting nearby Santa Rosa, a small introduction to Daddy’s and Mommy’s love for travel. We went to many places around the world before we had you. One day, we’ll explore new places together.

Luc is Ready to Roll

At the Hotel

 

Having Breakfast at Chloe's French Cafe

Walking Around Downtown Windsor

Your brother Odin came along with us for this family trip and spent a day at Incredible Canines, playing with other dogs and running on open acres.

You went wine tasting like a true Californian.

We went on a hike along the scenic Spring Lake Regional Park, and you marveled at all the greenery surrounding you. I think green is your favorite color; you love the sight of leaves dancing in the wind.

At Spring Lake Park

Daddy & Odin

Part of the Circle of Life

We also went to the Charles Schulz Museum, who illustrated the Peanuts comics. We found your American twin, bald and round-headed Charlie Brown.

At the Peanuts Museum

Comic Strip Mural Wall

Mommy also got to visit the Luther Burbank Home & Gardens, creator of the Shasta Daisy.

Mommy Among the Daisies

The Perfect Shasta

On weekends, Daddy would take us on adventures to places like San Jose State University, where Mommy and Daddy met, and to Valley Fair Mall, where you marveled at the children playing on the play area.

At the Lego Store

In the Kiddie Play Area

SJSU's Swenson Gate

Tower Hall

Walking Across Clark Library, Where Mommy & Daddy Used to Study Together

You tried solid food for the first time, starting with rice cereal and then avocados, peas, pears, peaches, sweet potatoes, cauliflower, and mung beans. Mommy would spend her weekends steaming, baking, and pureeing food for you, and you delight in many new flavors you got to taste.

Trying Sweet Potatoes

Baby Food Stash

This month marks a huge transition for us, Luc. Mommy went back to work after being away for five months to bond with you. It’s the first time we’ve been apart for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. As a working mother, I am a woman divided and torn. I could not work the hours I used to work before, my days interrupted by pumping breaks, my evenings spent rushing home through traffic to see you again for the night. I could not be the mother I used to be to you, tending to your every need, being there for you when you open your eyes from naps, being able to hold and kiss you throughout the day when I miss you so. I am missing your milestones as you continue to grow, that it wouldn’t be me who watches you crawl for the first time, take your first steps, utter your first words. I could not be the full person I used to be, the friend responsive to emails and up for an evening outing, the pet mommy who used to walk daily with her fur baby and tend to his hygiene with care, the well-rested woman who gets enough sleep to tackle each day with fresh energy.

Each day gets a little easier with leaving you in the morning and not being so wistful when I see you pushed in your stroller for your morning walk with your grandparents, knowing that I will not see you again until the end of the day, changing clothes for work in a house hollow with a silence I have not known for the last four months. During work breaks, I’d look at your pictures saved on my phone, remembering your shrieking laughter, hearing in my head the snippets of the lullabies that I used to play for you at home. I miss our simple days together, just sitting in the yard so you can watch the leaves sway in the wind, our daily walks around the quiet neighborhood, our snuggles and naps together as spring sunshine streams through our bedroom window.

This is one of the last pictures I took of you before I returned to work.

I love watching you sleep, the way your little fingers curl tight around my shirt, soothed to dreamland by knowing I am close by you. One day, you’ll be too eager to break from my grasp and run on your own. One day, you may impatiently shove me away as I hug you. Parenthood is about letting go, supporting each other’s individual journeys, but being strong without each other, too. We gradually teach each other how to live with this separation. But sometimes, we look back to these simple days when we hung on to each other, the world moving rapidly around us, and we were content in our stillness: skin-to-skin, hand-to-hand.