I made a choice. For me, for my baby, for my family.
Today, I did not have to get my baby up, wake him from his warm slumber next to his soft mommy, dress him in the cool morning air, the thermostat set to 60° for sleep, carry him through the outside chill to his awaiting car seat to take the 15 minute journey to Nana and Papa’s house along the river.
After a restful night in his bassinet, at 5 am he was scooped up, undressed down to his onesie, pulled in close and nursed in Mommy and Daddy’s soft, warm bed, followed by dark tummy time good mornings, and puffy eyed, sleepy smiles. No rushing around, trying to get ready and out the door on time.
Going back to work was always my plan. I loved my job. I loved the routine, the schedule being the same as my kids, and more than anything else, I loved my coworkers and the kids.
Mike had different feelings on the subject. His preference was for me to stay home with Mason, but he respected my need to go back to work and some of the deeper reasoning behind it.
I needed to work. I needed to be independent. I needed to be able provide for my kids by myself, without having to depend on someone else.
Because last time was different. Last time, I didn’t have financial security. I didn’t have a supportive partner. I was in survival mode from living with an addict. I felt like a failure.
I spent years building myself back up. I was terrified to go back to that place. The place where I had to put my faith and trust into another human being to take care of me, and not only me, but my boys too. Last time didn’t work out so well.
I felt guilty for putting that on someone else again.
But he was offering. He wanted to. He could. And I had to let go. Let go of the fear, the sadness, and the guilt.
Because it wasn’t the same this time around. I had to heal from that trauma. From the first time. And realize I was in a different place, with a different person, and I was safe.
I could be there for my baby who needs me. I could not get the dishes done, or the laundry, or dinner because the baby needed me and I wouldn’t be called lazy, or made to feel like I was failing. I am accepted for who I am and my limits as a human being.
So this time around, I choose. I choose my baby, and this life. And I feel safe and loved and know this is where I am meant to be.
This morning was different.
This morning I did not wake up with a pit in my stomach. This morning I did not wake up counting the mornings I had left with my baby.
I opened my eyes, and kissed that sweet face and said “Good morning, my baby”
