While I was pregnant (and even before), I read a lot about the experiences of pregnant working women and, in particular, how they handled the Big Question: whether to continue working, either inside or outside the home, after the baby was born, and if so, in what capacity. Following maternity leave–six weeks? sixteen weeks? a whole year? however long it takes to pull your pants up and log in to your email account?–what were the experiences of women who went back to work full-time immediately, eased back into 40-hour weeks gradually, switched to part-time permanently, switched careers entirely, started working from home exclusively, or became stay-at-home moms, either putting their jobs on hold temporarily or giving them up completely? An analyst by nature, I knew that if a “right” answer was out there, I’d be able to find it, by golly.
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A different kind of depression is affecting women these days–economic depression. I, like everyone in America, have been hearing about this depression/recession nonstop for months, but until this week it was still something that was happening to other people, not to me. Then, on Monday afternoon, I stopped by my office to say hello and show off my little guy and discuss with my supervisors my impending return to work, and that’s when I got the bad news from a coworker: Instead of the modest end-of-year raises we’re sometimes blessed with, this year the lucky ones among us got 10 percent pay cuts–“lucky” because that means we weren’t the ones who got laid off. As my maternity leave dwindles, I’ve had all the usual jitters about getting back into the swing of things after a prolonged absence–including taking a financial hit for returning only part-time–but I never thought this would happen. 
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So, my breastfed baby still won’t take the bottle*, which means that for now at least I still spend a hearty portion of every day (and night) at the mercy of an infant’s tummy grumbles. The whole I’m-going-back-to-work-soon-and-he-must-take-a-bottle freakout aside, I can’t really complain, though; when he feeds with me, he feeds easily and well, and aside from a brief encounter with a plugged duct (yeowch), I’ve really enjoyed that special time we spend together. So, although I’m not “complaining,” per se, there is one issue I wish I could resolve, and I’m hoping you can help…
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Two Thanksgivings ago we spent a long vacation in England visiting relatives, one of whom was a five-month-old baby, my niece. My sister-in-law was the brand new, first-time mother of this baby girl, and knowing that I would soon be a brand new, first-time mom myself, I was all ears and eyes and mouthful of questions about the everyday mechanics of taking care of a baby. My SIL gave me a ton of great advice (and maternity clothes), but I think the best education I received about motherhood came from just being around an infant all day, every day, for several weeks. It’s an experience I recommend all expectant mothers seek out. 

Living with a baby for an extended period of time is vastly different from other common baby encounters, like holding your coworker’s kid during the office holiday party, changing a wet diaper “just for the fun of it,” or babysitting for an afternoon. Even the worst of us can figure out how to take care of and entertain a tiny human being for two or three hours, but up those two or three hours into twenty-four, and make that one day into every day, and we must dig into our reserves–of creativity, of patience–to answer the question “What do you do with a baby all day?”
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And now, ladies (and gentlemen?), my infant son and I will perform our greatest trick to date: the Structured Nap! Stand back, observe, and be amazed!
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All 7 pounds, 2 ounces, 21.5 inches, and dark brown hair of my perfect little son arrived at 5:25 p.m. on his due date, December 14, no induction necessary. Considering that only about 5 to 10 percent of babies are born on their due dates, I’d say he had a brilliant sense of timing if not for the fact that the labor lasted twenty-six hours, and that’s if you don’t count the day and a half of painful contractions leading up to that. But all’s well that ends well, everyone’s healthy and recovered, and although I can’t speak for the kid himself, he seems to be enjoying this world as much as the world enjoys having him in it.

And so now I’m a mom. Time to roll up my sleeves and dive elbow deep into the hard work of parenthood.
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Today is my first real day of maternity leave and I hardly know what to do with myself. I finally finally finally finished up the last of my office projects late last night, and yet my due date is still ten days away (although I’m scheduled to get a little “help” as early as next Wednesday), which is at once So! Soon! and also a vast expanse of unplanned, unfilled time to do who knows what. I of course have a to-do list that could keep me busy through 2010, but even as much as I’m relieved to have this opportunity to cross off the errands that have been on that list and on my mind for the past few weeks (and months), I’m also toying with the idea that now is my time to just rest and relax while I have the chance. The question is: Can I just rest and relax?
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You guys have given me a lot of good advice over the past few weeks. Now it’s my turn to pay it forward.

A reader at another site I contribute to recently posed the question “How much does it cost to have a baby?” At first it sounded like a pretty innocent and straightforward query, with an answer dependent mostly on whether your taste and budget tends toward the hand-me-down umbrella stroller or latest-model Bugaboo, the backpack-as-diaper bag versus this season’s hottest pattern by Petunia Picklebottom. Not so.
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As I wind down and wrap up my work in the office before maternity leave,* I’m relishing the daily excuse to spend a few minutes here and there to simplify and declutter my space. I’m purging old files, organizing the keepers, and reassessing how much crap I really need to have on my desk at any given time. (Pencils: yes. Rainbow slinky: no.) It’s not nesting, per se, but it has a similar vibe; I’m cleaning out virtual instead of literal cobwebs, applying some metaphorical elbow grease to long-neglected messes, and trying to impose as much order as I can before things get really chaotic.
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Managers have already started taking projects away from me, coworkers are asking to be taught parts of my job, and although it’s been a month since I moved into my new office, I still haven’t unboxed any personal items because, before I know it, someone else (probably an intern) will be sitting at my desk all day while I’m at home with an infant, and why should anyone have to stare at pictures of my cats all day, especially when they’re not being paid? With six weeks to go before maternity leave, I’m already being phased out.

They can’t completely get rid of me, though (bwahaha), because my rock-solid, non-negotiable plan is to return to the office part-time next spring (I have to return next spring—financial crisis, mortgage payments, cost of childcare, blah blah blah), and because I don’t want to lose my mojo completely, I’ve latched on to this crazy notion that I’ll stay in regular contact with my company while I’m away, whether they like it or not.
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