Hi Ho, Hi Ho..It's off to work I go. Soon.

In 13 working days, I'll be back at it. Out of the house, away from my baby, focusing my energy on raising money for environmental conservation instead of attempting to raise a well adapted and well rounded child.

To say I have mixed feelings is an understatement. My mind is a veritable blender. While I look forward to swapping my Mom clothes (yoga pants & a hoodie) for high heels and clothes that at least appear that I haven't completely given up on myself, aesthetic indulgence is such a silly thing to anticipate. Mind you I think there is something deliciously sublime about trading in the diaper bag for a purse. Ahhh, a purse that won't leave crumbs under my nails each time I reach into it. Life's simple pleasures.

The only other thing I look forward to is being able to eat my lunch. Uninterrupted. Warm. In a seated position. At a dignified human pace.

That's about it. Well, I suppose the pay cheque will be nice too. However, I have become accustomed to the dreaded act of budgeting and the even more sinister act of "retail restraint".

So what do high heels, a purse, a good lunch and more money add up to? Not enough. A meagre sum when compared to the endless moments with my baby. The ability to stay in my pj's and play stack the blocks all day long. The freedom that exists every day upon waking and thinking "hmmmm, what shall we do today?" The times spent with old friends and those spent with some new, wonderful friends (that will someday be old friends). The chance to witness in real time, every "first". The chance to be the first to kiss the bumps and bruises and to cuddle away the crankies. The time. Simply, the time.

The next 13 days better go slowly, very, very slowly. I'm still comfortable in my yoga pants.

A mother's imagination.

I never imagined that motherhood would involve forcibly holding your child down while nurses sedate him. Or that it would entail watching his tiny little body disappear into a seemingly enormous CAT Scan machine. A bedtime bath that focused not on playing and splashing, but on removing the post EEG grime from his hair. Sitting beside his crib while he naps, just to make sure the meds don't cause respiratory complications. Not knowing why his brain is misfiring and wreaking havoc on his little body.

I imagined finding new recipes for him as he discovers the wonders of food. Watching him smile, roll over, crawl, cruise and take that first tentative step. Finding new ways to bring out that deep belly laugh. Playing for endless hours on the floor with him. Walking for even more hours than that, deep in the woods, introducing him to nature's playground. I have all of this, but I also have so much more.

I research epilepsy and paediatric brain disorders. I force him to take his anti-convulsant medicine everyday. I watch him closely and obsessively for any sign of a seizure. I worry endlessly that he may develop a fever that will lead to more seizure activity. I rush him to the hospital whenever something doesn't seem right. I worry constantly about his development.

I also love him more than I have ever loved. I have prayed for him more than all of my past prayers combined. I hold him closer and tighter and more often than I ever touched another person, and when he falls asleep in my arms, I keep him there.

I never imagined that motherhood would bring with it this much fear, but I also never realized that a 10 month old baby can own you. That he can make you feel more alive, more grateful, more joyful and more fulfilled then ever imagined.