Ok, I’m not wishing it on my child, instead I’m wishing it on myself. I know what many of you are thinking, I’ve lost my mind and trust me when I tell you that I have beaten myself up over this selfish idea.

This morning I went back to my doctor for my six-week post partdum check up. This was to be the doctor’s visit to clear me to go back to work, something I loathe to do. I sat in the office contemplating the fact that I could possible be experiencing side effects from my c-section. I silently prayed that something would be wrong somewhere. I wanted something minor, nothing that would incapacitate me or prevent me from being able to spend time with my son and take care of him. Instead I was looking for something that might buy me an extra week or two on maternity leave, which by the way whoever created the standard of 6 weeks for maternity leave had to be a man who was concerned about nothing more than the bottom line and making a buck. No way is 6 weeks enough time for a mother or the child. People claim that capital punishment is cruel and inhumane, well I would say that 6 weeks of maternity leave is the same. It affects the mental state of a mother perhaps more so than the child, but either way it’s cruel. Now, off of my soap box on that.

So, I make my way back to the nurse and find out my blood pressure is higher than usual for me, but still below average. My hemoglobin is a little low, but nothing to be concerned with and oh yeah, I have 13 more pounds to lose to get back to my pre-pregnancy weight. I tell the nurse that I’m tired, that I still have pain from my incisions, and that I still have a little bleeding although it has gotten better. All of this, I’m hoping will raise a red flag, perhaps send up a warning flare that my body isn’t ready to go back to work. I’m informed that this is all normal and that I’m actually progressing along a lot better than some women. This of course made me feel bad about the fact that I was hoping for something to be wrong with me, when so many women out there do experience problems and complications and can only hope for the ability to feel better.

A few minutes later and I’m seeing the doctor. I give him the same information as I gave the nurse. He does his standard check of me and pronounces me extremely healthy and fit. I can start running today, I can lift weights, take bubble baths and even have sex. Fabulous (insert sarcastic tone here)! As much as I want to do all of the above and I’m extremely grateful for the fact that I am a healthy person, why couldn’t just this one time something be wrong with me for the sake of spending more time with my son?

I’m sure I’ll get berated by a lot of people and mothers out there for actually wishing something bad on myself, but the thought of taking my child to daycare while I return to work is so unbearable. I found myself blubbering the entire way to my husband’s office. I wasn’t able to look him in the face at lunch while he and I spoke, but instead stared at my son and thought about the fact that starting on Wednesday, I will be away from him for 10 hours! I know millions of moms do this every day, but it doesn’t make it easier for me. And I’m ashamed to say that I still wish the doctor had found something wrong with me. 😦