Today, I loved being a working mom. I snuck into your room to sneak a peek of you sleeping before I left for work. You heard me and your bright blue eyes popped open, and a huge smile spread across your sweet face as you clapped your hands together. I picked you up and gave you a kiss, proud of myself for the example I’m setting for you – a capable, driven woman who works hard to provide for her family and loves what she does. I love being a working mom.
At work, the nanny sent me a picture of you at story time at the library, your face full of smiles and those same big blue eyes sparkling, like they always do. I had to show it off to all of my coworkers. I love that you’re taken care of by the best person in the world. I love that we found her and that she showers you with the attention and adoration you deserve. She’s patient with you, does activities with you, and helps you learn and grow (better than I could at home, where I would be consumed with my to-do list, and my attention would be consumed by chores and tasks). Let’s be honest, I don’t have the skill set nor patience that your sweet Abigail does. I love that daddy and I can give you that person. I love being a working mom.
I walked in the door after work. Your face lit up when you saw me, and you screeched with delight. I love how happy you are to see me while I’ve been gone all day. It makes me melt. It reminds me that you’ve missed me and that you love me, and that you haven’t forgotten me while I’m at work. Quite honestly, I would go crazy at home all day. It’s not for me. My job gives me a sense of identity, a sense of accomplishment; it helps me feel like I’m doing something important with my life. I love that. I thrive off of that. I need it. I love being a working mom.
But today, I hated being a working mom. When I saw you lying in your crib and I knew I was leaving you, my heart started to pound. I got a heaviness in my chest. I held you a little longer than I had time for, smoothing your sweet hair and kissing your chubby cheeks, so I ended up running late. I got into the car and started to tear up a little while I drove down Wilmington Pike. The man in the car next to me gave me a funny look, but I just know if that had been a working mom instead, she’d have given me a knowing smile of encouragement. I thought about how it’s going to be ten long hours until I see you again, and my stomach sits in knots. I hate being a working mom.When I saw the picture your nanny sent, I felt nagging guilt. How much of your little life am I missing being at work? Every day, you’re bigger and smarter and one step closer to not being my baby anymore. I should be home with you, taking you fun places and teaching you and watching you experience things for the first time. I hate that I see so much of your life from the audience. I worry that wanting to be at work instead of at home makes me a terrible mom, selfish and uncaring. I hate that I have to work so we can pay our student loans and mortgage and buy groceries and toilet paper. I hate being a working mom.
When I walked in the door and I saw your face light up, it made me horribly sad that I’ve only got two hours with you until bedtime, and in that two hours, I need to make dinner and fold clothes and pick up around the house. On top of that, I’m beat from work, from dealing with difficult patients and difficult procedures. I’m too tired and distracted to give you the undivided attention I want to and that you deserve. I know you don’t notice it now, but I dread the day that you do. I paused what I was doing (it’s not that important, anyway), and covered your face with kisses. You pushed me away, because you’re a “big girl” and just aren’t feeling the kisses right now. I know it’s a phase, but it makes my heart hurt. I hate being a working mom.
Life’s like that. So many things are a dichotomy, especially motherhood. I hate leaving you, and I love and find purpose in my career. I love working and helping others, and I hate spending my days away from you. I hate only having evenings and weekends with you, and I love the time I have with you.
It doesn’t make sense, and it doesn’t have to. The truth is I simultaneously love and hate being a working mom. I’ve learned very little about being a mom makes any sense. It’s exhausting and draining and amazing and rewarding, all blended together. It’s what makes motherhood the unique journey it is.
Nailed it!!!
Thank you ❤️❤️ I never thought that I’d want to be at home and not at work. Crazy what these little ones do to us!
100% makes sense! I feel That way daily.
Girl tell me about it! It’s so hard. But then days when I’m home with her (I’m off Tuesdays-I hope you get a day off too!), I’m like counting down the minutes until Michael is home from work to help out. And then when I put her down for the night, I’m all sad about going to work the next day. Makes no sense!
This is so beautifully written. You are doing a fabulous job, Mama.
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