Back to work: too soon for a Type A?

After a wonderful, stress filled, painful 8 weeks of maternity leave, I am returning to work tomorrow night.  Part of me is relieved.  Part of me is terrified.  Part of me is juiced up on coffee and can't tell you anything because its brain is going way faster than my mouth (or in this case, my fingers).

I hate being dependent.  Hate it.  Having no income leaves me fairly dependent.  Brian has been a good sport about it.  He has kept a little cash in my wallet and paid my bills with no complaint.  He even paid more than the minimums on my credit cards.  I am grateful for it, but at the same time, feel like an incredible burden.  At least when I have an income, I can muddle through and pay my own bills, if not one or two for the household.  I cannot fathom being a housewife and relying solely on my husband for every red cent that passes through my hands.  Dependence begone!  Relief returns in the form of a regular paycheck, and a night or two out of the house, even if it is at work, in the presence of the sick, hurt, and dying.

At the same time I'm relieved, I'm freaked out.  I don't want to leave my baby.  I don't want her to forget me.  I don't want her to hate me.  I don't want her to love anyone more than me.  I don't want Brian to have to wake up in the middle of the night and do my job.  I don't want Luna to have to try and figure out if it is safe to go back to sleep without me around.  I don't want Brian to try and comfort her and then fall asleep and roll over and kill her.  Type A personality is really coming through on this, and I have to just back off a little bit.  But I'm scared.  More scared than I ever was before with any of the other babies, and I don't know why.  At least I don't harbor the insane ideas I did when I was going back to work after Zane was born, that I could just set him up in a pack-n-play in the office and then go out and do my work.  Hello, control freak!

Caffiene has re-entered my diet.  As a nursing mother, it is kind of a no-no, unless you want your baby wound for sound.  But I can't make it all night without it.  I'm a junkie.  What can I say?  I've drunk a couple cups of coffee, and now this is the fastest I think I have ever typed anything.  I feel like my skin is a whole separate entity, electrified.  I am never going to get to sleep!

I would gladly continue to blab on and on about random things, but I have laundry that needs folding, windows that need washing, floors that need steam-cleaning, and coffee that needs drinking.  I should lay off, you say?  Yes, I probably should.  There are lots of things I SHOULD do, though, and like them, laying off the juice is probably not one that I will.