I rush up the subway steps and onto the platform, only to see the taillights of a train pulling away. I shuffle to the other end of the platform to await the next train, tapping my phone and checking my watch like any other commuter going about a well-worn routine. But I'm not like any other commuter today. Today I have stepped out of my house and left my baby in the charge of a sitter. He will stay with her for hours, while I attempt to be useful at work. I will go through the motions, do what needs to be done, but I will feel useless. I may appear to be a woman just going about her business, but I am actually a woman whose insides feel as if they are being ripped apart.
The writer Elizabeth Stone has said, “Making the decision to have a child - it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body. ” Indeed, my heart is back in our living room, napping in his swing. My heart is in the care of someone who just a short time ago was a stranger. And because my heart is there, so is my head. People shuffle in and out of seats, subway doors open and close. My stop comes, and I nearly miss it. Because my heart and head are pounding in time, to the same rhythm, his name sounding over and over with each beat. I will count each one until he is in my arms.