Tag Archives: maternity leave

Well, here we are…

28 Feb

It’s D-day today.  The day that seemed so far away is here.  I don’t know what to say about it. 

You know, it is an interesting thing–blogging. It is an interesting thing to put your…life…out there for everyone to see.  Obviously, I can pick and choose what I show you, and I do.  But you all have been with me on this journey, to this day.  The thing is, I don’t write about my feelings to get a comment back.  I don’t tell you how hard this is for you to tell me things will be ok.  But you do.  And I thank you for it.  Most of the comments make me cry, but just about everything is making me cry right now.  (I think there is something else to the Europeans giving their mommies a year maternity leave–your hormones are still all whooey for a year after giving birth.  So, on top of this being the hardest thing I have EVER done, my hormones are still staging a coup on my body and I don’t think that is helping anything.  To be honest, I have had enough of the hormones.)

At this point in my life, I can say I have probably had two real passions thus far.  The first would be soccer, which I played for 16 years.  I know, that sounds a little shallow–but when you are younger your passions are a little different.  Unfortunately, that passion ended with college.  I think for the last 10 years I have kind of just coasted through being happy enough, but I definitely have had nothing I was passionate about.  Well, I have a new passion.  I feel like I was born for this, born to be a mom.  It is amazing how much I have changed in the last 4 months.  I suppose when you love this hard, everything about it is going to be more difficult.  I have never done anything as hard as this day.  In my life.  Ever. 

This has been, and will continue to be, the most amazing journey I will ever go on.  I know it will be filled with ups and downs.  Because the “ups” are so wonderful, I will be able to get through the “downs”.  I am an intelligent and rational woman and I KNOW that tomorrow will be OK, the problem is these damn hormones emotions override my rational side.  I am going to miss that little man like crazy.  I am going to cry, I am just hoping it won’t be in front of any patients.  I know, for a while, I am just going to be getting through my day–but hopefully that will change.

I have received a lot of wonderful thoughts, comments and emails from friends, acquaintances and strangers.  Your kind words, while making me cry, have helped me work through all of this.  I thank all of you for coming along on this journey with me so far.  I hope you have enjoyed the ride even a fraction as much as I have.  And I hope you stay on for the next few chapters. 

At least I will have this to come home to!!


How Do You Stop The Snowball?

10 Feb

Independent of all these snowstorms, there is a Texas-sized snowball rolling my way.  It is packed with a whole lot of anxiety, along with some fear, sadness, and guilt thrown in for good measure.  And I don’t know how to stop it.

While feel better about my work arrangements, and this is the best decision for us, it is still not my first decision.  And while the snowball is smaller than it was before the part-time decision, it is still HUGE and LOOMING.  I have a hard time admitting my vulnerability with this situation, but it is so all-encompassing that I have to. 

In 2 1/2 weeks, I will be dropping my son of at a virtual stranger’s house.  I don’t even think I need to elaborate on that situation to make it sound any worse, but I will.  He is not taking a bottle.  I am told that this happens.  I am told “We see this sometimes.  He will make it up with marathon feedings when he is back with you”.  Oh, I think, that doesn’t sound so bad.  “He won’t eat for seven hours?”, I ask.  They nod.  Huh.  “Will he be miserable?”, I ask.  “Yes, probably.”  OH.  So, he won’t starve, he will just be miserable for seven hours.  Ok, that doesn’t make me feel much better after all.

In my delusioned mind, my son was going to sleeping through the night when I went back to work.  I would be so well rested, it would be no problem.  Last night we had a rough night.  I was up from 12:30-2 a.m. and then Carson thought he might like to start his day at 5 a.m. instead of his usual 6:30-7:30.  At 5:30, the hubbs took Carson from me and ordered me back to bed, where I cried myself to sleep wondering how I would be able to have nights like this and then go to work for 7 a.m.

At this point, I feel lucky to be able to have a conversation with a grown-up and string together a few coherent sentences.  In two weeks, I am going to have to talk medical with people who are going to have to believe that I am, in fact, knowledgable and good at my job and not some tearful, blubbering fool.  I do not know how I am going to do it. 

My snowball is getting bigger and closer every day.

Closer And Closer…

8 Feb

Huh, time hasn’t stopped yet.  Apparently, as hard as I wish for this to happen, it doesn’t seem that it is possible.  I am now 20 days away from going back to work…and the closer I get, the faster the time goes.  Today I filled out the daycare paperwork.  Reality is definitely setting in. 

Back when I wrote I Just Want To Be A Mom I was still going back to work full-time, working 4 ten-hour days.  I had a lot of anxiety about that.  The good news, for those who don’t know, is that I am now going back part-time: 5 six-hour days for 30 hours (7-1 shift and 1-7 shift).  When we came to that decision, I felt like a huge weight had been lifted off me.  Going back to work didn’t seem like so much of an impossibility. 

So, I feel better about going back to work, but it still wouldn’t be my first choice.  I am three short weeks away from that day that seemed so far off.  My mother-in-law comments how much Carson loves me, how he watches me all the time.  I love that, I love being his whole world–but every time she says those things, my heart breaks a little thinking about being away from him.  I have seen every first FIRST so far.  I selfishly want ALL the firsts.  I don’t want to share those with anybody.

I am going to say something that 15 weeks ago never would have come out of my mouth: I am jealous of stay-at-home moms.  Insanely so.  I’m not a jealous person, and I do not think I have fully understood what jealousy was until now.  I hope that those moms understand how lucky they are.  I can’t believe how much I have changed in the last 15 weeks.  I am not the same person as I was.  I am a MOM.  Does it get any better than that?

I Just Want To Be a Mom

11 Jan

I think I want to retire from my previous profession and become a full-time mom.  I didn’t think I would be that person.  But here I am, about 6 weeks away from returning to work, and I am hanging on to every precious second.  I think being a mom is the most important job there is.  I think it sucks that finances dictate that I quit that job to return to one that isn’t nearly as rewarding, fulfilling or satisfying. 

I am taking 4 months of maternity leave.  To do this, I paid into short-term disability, I saved every second of vacation time from 2009, I used every minute of sick time I was allowed to accrue since I started my job in 2005, and I took a bunch of time unpaid (all of which, coincidentally, leaves me with nothing when I go back).  Our lovely government does not share my opinion that mothering is the most important job and did not help me out at all, except to say that my job will hold my job while I’m busy doing this other thing with my son. 

So here I am, every day enjoying watching my son grow and change.  And here I am, realizing this time is waning.  And here I am, making myself sick about it.  I am insanely jealous of stay-at-home moms.  Heck, I am insanely jealous of the woman I am going to pay to take care of my son.  I don’t know how I am going to do it.  Everyone says it will get easier…and I am sure the routine of it will.  I am not sure that missing him will.  I am choosing to work four 10-hour days to have extra full day with him.  That means there are 2 days a week where I very likely will not see him from 8:15 a.m. when I drop him off until wake-up the next morning.  I will rarely, if ever, be the one who gets to see his smiling face when we pick him up from daycare. 

This is just the start of my long road of Mommy guilt…but the start is a doozie!

Who would want to leave this little man?

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