Two weeks ago (has it really been that long?) I departed for New York City. I had never been to the Big Apple before, and the excitement was too much to bear. I couldn't wait to walk through Central Park, ride the elevator to the 86th floor of the Empire State Building and admire the Flatiron Building from Madison Square Park.

The trip was magical, fabulous, amazing. There really are now words to describe the experience, only overwhelming feelings -- most of them good (seeing the Statue of Liberty), some nerve wrecking (taking the subway, alone) -- but overall I enjoyed the four blissful days away.

As a mother, it's not often that I get away sans Dawson, and when I do have the opportunity to hang out with myself, I often feel guilty for enjoying time alone.

The most difficult part of this mini mom-vacation was leaving my son in the care of my husband and my parents.

It's not that I doubted the care my son would receive, I knew he would be in good hands. After all, my husband is a competent man and a wonderful father, and my parents raised four children so it's not like they lack experience.

My biggest fear was the emotional toll I was placing on my little boy. Would he cry for me while I was gone? Would he be able to fall asleep without me by his side? Would he wake up each morning and wonder where his mama was?

The mommy guilt was eating away at me. Even though I needed to get away from the daily grind of house work and the many demands of raising a 3-year-old, I actually asked my husband if he wanted me to stay home. Obviously he said yes, but only because he was going to miss me.

"Just don't worry," he said. "You need time away, too."

Telling a mother not to worry is like telling the sun not to rise in the east. It's guaranteed that all moms worry about leaving their children with others, even family members. We cared for our babies since birth, we have an unbreakable bond, it's only natural that we believe we are the only ones who can do what we do. There's just no replacing the Mommy.

But I understand that we have to let go. If only for short periods of time. We can't always be the only force in our child's life. Sometimes we have to relinquish control of our dominant role in order to be better mothers. Sometimes we have to let Dad (and Grandma) navigate the ship. If only to regain some of our own sanity.

Four days away was enough for me. I started missing my baby and wondering what he was up to. When I finally got home, I noticed something different about Dawson.

I swear he grew. He looked taller. He learned new things while I was away.

"Mommy, the town we live in starts with a "P". It's....ummm...Puh-wover, Wis-cahn-sin!"

Grandma taught Dawson new words and shared new experiences with him while I was away. I felt the guilt in the pit of my stomach.

But I realized, while I was enjoying NYC, Dawson was enjoying the diversity that spending time with other family members can bring. I realized that maybe my son needed a vacation from me, just as much as I needed a vacation from him. The hug I received when I got off the plane showed me just how much he missed me, and how much I missed him.

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Indeed it does.