It’s not enough

It’s December 2nd. It’s been almost 2 months since I last got up, got ready, and drove to work for the day. It’s been almost 2 months since I gathered my belongings, switched off the light and turned in the doorway to get one last look. I was emotional. Sad to leave. I walked down the hallway with an ache in my chest. I’ll be back.

The thought of leaving my people truly hurt my heart. The reality that everything would be changing in just a few days, maybe even just a few hours, terrified me. But there was one thing I knew for certain: I would be back. I needed to be back.

I’ll need the separation I assured my work friends as my pregnancy progressed. Truth bomb: I wasn’t ever truly gung ho on the whole baby track thing. I am not the person who goes Gaga whenever I see a tiny human out in public. I tend to steer clear of the littles when they’re around. It’s nothing against them, really. I’d just had my fill in my ten years of nannying.

I’m selfish, I told my people. I know myself well enough to know I’ll need these hours. I’ll need this space. I need a chance to just be Joey and not mom. I had no idea. No freaking clue.

I love my job. Love my job. I love my work people and the college I work for. I am a lifer, God willing. I enjoy what I do daily. I never, ever dreaded getting up or going to work. I still don’t. Except now, things are different.

My heart hurts. I am torn. I want both. I need both. Mentally, I need this job. Financially, my little family needs this job. A job I cherish. A job I spent many days and nights praying for, begging God for. A job I’m thankful for every single day. A job that quite literally changed my life in all the best ways.

But it’s not enough time. I’m sure it wouldn’t ever feel like enough time. I’m not ready, and yet I’m so ready at the same time. I want both.

The moment my son entered the world, I changed. Instantly, just like that. People warn you about that. They tell you it’ll happen. I didn’t believe them. And I know now that for the rest of my life, I will likely feel this way. Like I am meant to be in two places at once.

All this to say, it’s hard, friends. Bringing a human into the world and then dropping him off into someone else’s care is hard. Taking care of yourself mentally is hard. Taking care of your family financially is hard. It’s all just so hard. And I wish it weren’t.

It seems so simple. The solution seems so clear. Do both. Be both. But life, friends? It’s anything but simple.

If all goes according to plan, I’ll return to work on December 16th. Just two months and three days after the most traumatic and wonderful experience of my life. (A story I’ll share once I can find the right words.)

I don’t often comment on things like this — but I feel like it has to be said. I guarantee if a man had to experience all that a woman does to bring a human into the world, things in America in regards to leave would look a whole lot different.

Yeah. I said it.

It’s not enough time.

 

Real time update 12/17/2021: I spent pretty much the entire evening of December 15th a total basket case. I couldn’t get myself together, just one constant sob. I told my husband it was wild to me that I had more anxiety about returning to work than I did about leaving to birth a human. Ironically, that night, my son slept through the night for the first time: I did not. I laid awake, tossing and turning, envisioning every possible scenario. I love my job and the place I work. I could only imagine how difficult the transition is for moms who don’t. I know that’s a reality many face. 

Jdubs (what we’ll call baby here for now) was a dream that morning. I got ready with ease and got some extra hang out time in. I felt an odd sense of peace and gratitude. I’m easing my way back into work. Two half days where baby will hang with dad. Then we have Christmas Break where I’ll only go in another two half days while the college is closed. Once I return full time in January, Jdubs will hang with dad for a few weeks before going to daycare. I’m grateful they get to spend some hang out time together, too, without me hovering. 

Walking into the office and falling back into my normal routine, as if I had never left, was a strange, almost sickening comfort. But it was a rhythm I fell back into easily. I walked down the hallway, twisted the key, and walked into my office. Exactly as I left it before everything changed.

My colleagues were wonderful. All stopping by throughout the morning to welcome me back, to check on me. I didn’t shed one single tear that morning. 

It felt oddly normal once I was back at my desk, buried in the work I loved before I took on my new role as Mama. 

It is hard. But it is good. I slept much better last night, and I’m comforted to know that while this season will be tough, I can do both.