Choosing The Moment

This is the summer, our slow time. My eyes come into focus, and I wonder how long I have been staring at the left panel of my outlook email. There are 138 new unread emails in my inbox since yesterday. I take a big sigh, a sip of my coffee and attack them instantly. There is a million-dollar home closing wire transaction that must go out by 10am. We have two client meetings the day after next and the materials are not prepared. A large estate planning project that was in process with the bank for 3 weeks has stalled and our client is badgering me. I scribble these tasks on my note pad adding to the accumulating tasks already there. I begin to number them in order of priority. How can one person be expected to complete all of this accurately and on time? The familiar mental panic manifests physically as a burning in my throat and tightening in my neck.  

I hear the desperate and shrill ding of a Microsoft Team’s message like a newborn screaming to be fed. Is it my protege saying good morning? Is he just trying to draw my attention to the fact that he is online and working? Is it my boss asking me for an update to make him feel better about my lengthening to do list? There is no time to check. I am slapped in the face as a task reminder flashes on the screen with an anxious tone. The market is now open and there are two multi-million-dollar batches of client trades that I need to execute. My eyes well up, I reach that mental breaking point that I reach almost every day and it is only 9am. Within every moment, I am needed by my clients, my trainees, my boss, my coworkers, my husband. There are no boundaries, no assignment is off limits for me. I am pulled in every direction and as I take a breath and rest my hands on my belly, I realize that soon our baby will need me too. 

Spring is here. I should be enjoying warm days and the songs of the birds outside my window, but I can’t take this anymore. He only takes 20-minute naps. Twenty. Minute. Naps. According to Google and the law of wake windows, he needs five naps a day at 3 months old. I am losing my mind. Every hour and a half, I am forced to take him upstairs and bounce him to sleep so I can transfer him to the bassinet. The clock is my boss, and it bullies me any chance it gets. Should I spend twenty minutes doing laundry, twenty minutes taking a shower, twenty minutes making lunch? No, then I won’t have time left to eat it. I make a rare choice and walk down the hall to the bathroom for a shower. I only have energy to let the heat roll over me. I hear him through the monitor on my phone or is it just a phantom cry ringing in my ears? I step out of the shower, sprint to the bassinet and peer down. His long legs kick and his bright eyes still glisten with lonely tears, but he squeaks and smiles at me. I smile back and tell him how much I love him. The rest of the day crawls by until we lay down exhausted for the night. 

Another month and an invisible arm is yanking my body up from a dead sleep. I turn to face the iPad next to my ear. My sweet baby boy is rolling and crying. I can feel his tears overflow inside my chest. I jump up, use the bathroom and stumble down the hall through the pitch black. I clutch the tiny, soft, warm ball and bounce him over my shoulder, but he will not stop crying. We fall into the rocking chair for the thousandth time, and I nurse him back to sleep. There is an inexplicable calm that embraces me as I hold him sleeping. It’s as if I am whole for the first time in my life. Nothing matters but him and me and this moment. I lay him in the crib as carefully and as slowly as possible. I walk down the hall to my precious bed and sink down. Sleep waits long enough for one thought to cross my mind. How can I go back to my old life tomorrow? 

I look over my computer and out the window at the flurries starting to fall. Each day is overwhelming, I miss you. I try not to care about the emails I receive anymore, but they are always there piercing through every mental and physical barrier I lay down. Every day I am home with you makes me crave the next one, but today is a workday. As I flip through pictures of you, my phone rings. I ignore it. Immediately after the call goes to voicemail, I hear an email hit my inbox. It reads, ‘call me when you can’. I roll my eyes and play the voicemail. “I’ve called multiple times and have not been able to reach you so I can only assume that this is the wrong number. I am going to email you as well and I expect a call back”. I well up in tears, feeling the anger and frustration surge through me. I am a failure at my career. I am defeated and useless because I cannot meet this client’s demands. I frantically check my phone log. This client, my favorite client of 8 years, called me once and I missed the call. It happened to be on a day I was watching my son. I cannot for the life of me remember why I missed the call, but I know I was spending time with him. I simply can’t succeed in both jobs; Why would I ever want to put this person’s needs, or anyone else’s needs above yours for any sum of money? 

Two weeks later, today is the first day of my new full-time job. I start the morning by searching the closet for the vacuum. I click it on and you begin to converse with the whirring of the machine over who can scream the loudest. As I mindlessly start up the stairs, my sixth sense tells me to look down. I see a mischievous smile on the bottom step. I rush down and proudly guide you as you alternate each knee up every step for the first time. The happy tears do not stop rolling down my face. I'm glad I chose you.  

It’s the summer and we both crave the outside and fresh air. As we glide along the paved path through the neighborhood, you tweet back at each bird’s call. You love birds and you love grass above all else. We stop and I lean down to rip a handful of grass out of the ground for you. You toss the blades into the air, and I see and feel the joy on your face. I can't recite the date or time, not even if a gun was held to my head. Each warm day is filled with walking, cooking, reading, singing, cleaning, and dancing with my best friend. In the afternoon, I carry you out onto the balcony. You cruise over to my chair with curiosity, handing me a cheap bubble wand. Your pudgy hands grasp onto my knees, supporting you to stand. I take a deep breath in and blow the bubble away from us. The wind defiantly catches the bubble and returns it straight back. I watch as it lands airily onto your round cheeks. Tiny droplets spray onto your soft face and into the air. Your mouth first opens wide in surprise and then the lightest, shining smile forms across your lips. I long to read your mind, but instead I read your smile. It is the purest representation of curiosity and happiness. I know that this is the moment all of us live for, the most joyful moment of my life. My world stands still.