As Baby’s second birthday approaches (in November), I’ve had a bit of a revelation. My child is almost 2, which means I’ve been doing this working-traveling-mom thing for almost two years.
And, for each and every one of those 650+ days, I’ve stressed, worried, and guilted myself about being a working mom.
Is day care a detriment to my child’s development?
Will our bond be permanently stunted because I am not there each and every minute of her life?
Have I failed my child?
Have I failed my husband by leaving him with the bulk of the responsibilities on a regular basis?
What if something happens while I’m away?
What if they need me?
What if they don’t?
These questions, along with – oh about ten million more, have plagued me constantly since the day my maternity leave ended.
But, yesterday I woke up, skyped with my happy, smiling, little girl who tried to feed me bites of waffles through the computer, and I realized … she knows how much I love her.
She knows that she is the most important, cherished, beloved part of my life.
So, I resolved to stop the guilt. Stop the anxiety. Stop the stress.
I felt good about this resolution, confident even.
Two minutes later, day care called. Baby fell on her face while going outside. She has a bump on
her head and a scratched up nose.
My internal thought process in the following 4 seconds: I’m in the middle of freakin’ nowhere, three hours from home, stuck behind a semi going 40 in a 70. How the hell am I going to turn this car around and get to my child in under an hour? I’m pulling her out of day care, quitting my job, and holding her like an infant until she leaves for college, if I even let her go to college. How irresponsible are these day care workers to let her fall on her face?! What am I going to do?
Reality check: Five seconds later, they’re telling me that she’s jumping, playing, and dancing around outside and didn’t even cry. They just wanted to let me know what had happened. There is no need to come get her.
Of course, I call Husband immediately to let him know that he needs to quit his job, pick Baby up, and hold her like an infant until I can be home in three hours.
He tells me I’m crazy. Remember, she fell on her face a dozen times over the weekend and was just fine – she’s a high energy toddler who runs – never walks – everywhere, and she’ll be fine. She didn’t even cry.
Hmpf. I guess my resolution is on probation. God is definitely testing my resolve. I’m going to try it out, but honestly … guilt is my middle name. If this is going to work, I could use a day or two (or, you know, at least 5 minutes) without being tested.
It's been a while, but it feels good to link up again with Shell at Things I Can't Say for Pour Your Heart Out.
Note: I know I’ve been MIA lately. What can I say? Life gets busy sometimes. But I have been keeping up with y’all, reading your blogs, and attempting to comment … blogger has it in for me and won’t let me comment on about 80% of the blogs in my reader. Sorry!