An introduction to my life.
It’s my son’s first day in daycare and I am convinced that he has died and the daycare provider just hasn’t gotten around to calling me to tell me yet. She texted me to tell me that he had been sleeping for the last hour and he is adorable, and all I could think was, “He’s been asleep for an hour? Well that’s impossible. Obviously something is very very wrong.”
I will preface this by saying that there is no solution to this, other than continuing to walk forward. Put one foot in front of the other, let the days pass, and love the snot out of him when I’m with him.
I’ve gone around and around in my head. When I hit a problem, I create every possible solution until one actually works. I have yet to find the solution to this one.
Thought 1: Quit work, stay at home. But then we will be very tight on cash. And also, I will be crazy. Not eccentric crazy. Open the door on the freeway crazy. Post partum has been mean to me like that.
Thought 2: Win lottery, stay at home: See above, minus being tight on cash. (Maybe don’t throw out this idea completely.)
Thought 3: Work, child in daycare. Current solution, but will probably lead to my child not fully attaching to me and resenting me for remainder of life.
Thought 4: Work, child with nanny. But then we will be very tight on cash, to the point of making work seem not worth the time. Leading me back to thought 1. And thought 3.
You get the point.
I get the reasons why it’s ok to be a working mom. I read Lean In. It seems really wonderful to read about the studies and know that, at least statistically, I’m not screwing over my son (at least not more than anyone else).
But I think this is hard. I think it’s hard for moms who work and for moms who stay at home.
I was a crusader, adamant about a woman’s RIGHT to go to work, be a wife, and be a mom.
But the reality looks a little more like wearing the most ridiculous nipple suctions while sitting in a locked bathroom, having milk pumped out of me and worrying if there will be enough, or if I will have to supplement with formula. (Let’s add that to my list of insecurities.)
Welcome to being a working mom. Here’s to not having answers.