Learning to Fly

by Amy Fisher

Oh, how I remember so well my very first “Mama’s Getaway” trip after the birth of my daughter. It was something that had been planned before I’d even known I was to be a mother. So nine months after I had Ella, I packed my bags and prepared to fly the nest, visions of delicious sleep and solitude filling my head. The thoughts of which were exhilarating … and terrifying.

In theory, it sounded like a dream. But when it came time to say goodbye to my baby and husband, I was overwhelmed as a huge lump formed in my throat. Tears threatened to spill down my cheeks. Seriously, I thought, this is a good thing. You need to do this for yourself – and for them. So, with the resolve to get out there and have a good time, I kissed them both good-bye, grabbed my gazillion bags and boarded the plane.

The first half of my four-day trip wasn’t what I expected. I felt disoriented and very alone … as if I was missing some vital part of my being. I kept checking my bags to make sure I had everything. All of the attention I had been used to directing to someone else for the past nine months was now available for me to focus on ME. And I had no idea what to do with it. It felt weird and frivolous to only think about myself.

Throw into the mix my breast-pumping sessions every four hours (as a very inexperienced traveling nursing mom), and it was more work and frustration than I bargained for. First of all, I had a cheapie hand pump that took twice as long, if not more, than my good old electric one at home. It made my fingers cramp and had zero suction. Thinking I was oh so clever, I had opted to travel light. So light, in fact, that I’d also forgotten to bring along a good storage system for my breast milk. There was no question that I was going to continue pumping to keep my breast milk supply up, but I was forced to pump and dump the entire trip. Alas, I came home empty handed … and with a really sore hand. Next go round with my second baby, I am going to bring along my Devyn Bag on solo trips. It’s so style-y that I’m not going to be embarrassed hauling it to the ladies room for a mid-happy hour pump sesh. And with its 12-hour cold storage section (complete with its own ice pack), I know I won’t be agonizing over spilled milk, so to speak. Lessons learned.

So, the entire trip was not a complete bust. In fact, it was a phenomenal experience being on my own those four days. All pumping hassles aside, I did settle down and begin to revel in the “me time.” I found my groove. I missed my baby and husband, yes, but I also came to the understanding that doing something without them and for me did not mean I loved them any less. It did not mean I was a “bad mother” for wanting this time alone. I later learned it’s called mother’s guilt – that feeling when we reprimand ourselves for doing or even wanting to do something that’s solely ours. It’s taken me a long time to push past this martyr-like thinking, and I’m still learning how to hush the guilty voice that surfaces when I do something just for me. Whether it’s a four-day trip to a tropical paradise all on my own, or simply asking my husband to watch our daughter while I take a bath (and that seriously ranks right up there with a trip these days!), I know that these little moments recharge my spirit, restore my perspective, and bring me back to my family a better wife, mother … person in general. I am learning to accept that I deserve these moments. Every mother deserves them. So next time you find yourself completely frazzled and depleted, do something wild … embrace your MOMentum. Ask for what you deserve. And enjoy it!

Amy Fisher is a regular contributor to the Devyn Bag Blog.

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