I’m still struggling with the guilt over going back to work full-time. You see, my son has never spent time with anyone other than one of us. Never. He’s been around other people, but one of us has always been there. How am I going to just drop him off with someone at daycare? It all seems so sudden. I guess I should start during this month by dropping him off for a couple of hours just to get him used to it.
And just thinking about walking out the door without my baby? Still terrifies me. It has nothing to do with his wellbeing or safety. It has to do with my issues of letting go. Of not being there for him. I know I won’t always be there for him. But while he’s a baby, I feel I should. I want to. Heck, I need him more than he needs me.
Yesterday, I bought a couple of suits on sale. I’ve been needing to update my wardrobe. Some of my suits are, I’m ashamed to admit, ten years old. But today, buying those suits feels like an act of concession. It feels like I’m giving up. It feels wrong.
I still don’t know how I’ll get through this. I know I need to take it one day at a time. But I already feel like my soul is shriveling up just a tiny bit every time I think about it. You can call it overly dramatic or silly if you want to. But right now it’s my reality. And I’m still trying to work through it.
And this is one place where I do so. So, yes, I realize families do this all the time. Some people adjust better than others. If it were my choice, I don’t think I’d feel this way. Right now I just feel trapped. I don’t like it when my decisions are made for me, when choice is taken away. I can’t help it. Maybe I’ll get over it. I’m not sure.
Right now it feels like dropping him at day care (I’ll have to be the one who drops him off because J works so early in the morning) will be a thousand tiny daggers plunging into my heart. It already does. I know I’ve been lucky. But it’s just not enough for me.