I spent the morning feeling lost and overwhelmed. It was her third day at daycare, my third back at work. She was eager to get out of the house, and fine with being left -- she barely batted an eyelid as I left her, just as she has been each morning so far. When I went to get her she cried for the first time, but had been fine all day. A little fussing here and there, but generally very good tempered, talking and laughing and enjoying her little self.
But me. I am a little lost without her. Foggy. Missing something. Wishing for her. Missing the endorphin rush from breastfeeding her.
And I sit in my office, and wonder what I'm doing, and re-think this decision, and I comfort myself with thoughts of a job change, of quitting in six months once my contract is done. You never know.
I sit and wish I could move away and start all over again, taking my cozy and comfy family, just the four of us, away.
And then despite it all, despite the uncertainty of my decision and the uncertainty of the future, I feel lucky, because I have so much, everything I ever need, in just three other people.
1 comment:
((hugs))
It feels so weird, doesn't it? And I'm afraid I still feel like that sometimes. Torn between (a) really liking to work, and feeling a responsibility to my job and my colleagues and my clients, and (b) really wishing I could just be at home, doing home-things and mom-things. And knowing that since my salary is more than half our household income, and we really need my extended health plan, the choice should be easy and obvious -- but it's not.
I've also been daydreaming recently about picking up my family and moving ... somewhere. Starting again. But where, and how? Sigh.
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