when you know what you're missing

I went out with my girlfriends Saturday night - my first time out in nearly three years. While I was excited about a night out with my oldest and dearest friends, I also felt anxiety. Or a sense of conflict. With our first son, before he was sick, my husband and I both worked so essentially we both missed out on a good chunk of his life, from 3-5 months. But I didn't get too hung up on that because I thought there would be years and years of opportunity to be with him. Alas, I was wrong. And once he was gone, the agony of missing him was just plain cruel. But you adapt, slowly.

Now that Paudie is here, I hate to be away from him. I feel as if he is awake, and I can be with him, that is where I need to be. Because I don't want to miss any more than I have to (working). All I can describe it as is this pressure. Self-inflicted of course. I sense that is a difference between my husband and myself currently. He is home with Paudie for now so he gets hours of quality time each day so there is no guilt (I presume) should he want to do something for himself.

I guess my point is this: I hate that my life, my priorities, my needs, were rearranged for me. I didn't really need to lose my son to realize what is important and I certainly don't need to suffocate under the weight of the forced reprioritization, but I might.