Working Mama Blues

My dream as a little girl was to grow up & become a mother, specifically a stay at home mom. By the grace of God I finally have the baby I have always ached for & my gratitude for my son could never be adequately expressed in words. I recently returned to work since we can't make it by without my financial contribution due to our selfish & foolish spending habits in the past.

Everyday I send my son to be held, fed, & nurtured by someone else & I have never been more disappointed in myself & am genuinely angry that I didn't figure out long ago how to avoid this. (but I must say that if he must go to school, his facility has been fantastic) 

My already high-level emotions are on hyper drive, there is a lot of crying on a daily basis. As I kiss Brit goodbye I cry, I usually tear up at work several times a day, & when I walk in the door at night I practically sob upon taking Brit into my arms.

My job doesn't allow me to escape from the thought of my baby since I'm a pediatric nurse. My heart & soul ache for both day & night with him, mere hours in the evening are not nearly enough. I'm jealous of the time that his teachers get with him & that they get to watch him evolve into a sweet & happy boy. By the time I get home he is exhausted, fussy, or sleeping-all I do is hold him, there's little time for playing, reading, etc. Dinner, bills, baths, & life require attention too. Our weekends are a mad rush to accomplish everything it takes to run a household & at the same time trying to make every moment with my boy count. Since he has begun school & taking is a bottle all day, breastfeeding & my supply have taken a hit, I wanted to refuse to exclusively pump & bottle feed-but it became unavoidable this week. He has become so used to the bottle that he doesn't efficently or effectively eat at the breast. While I am still the one providing his nourishment my heart breaks at the loss of the experience with him-there is such beauty in the relationship between yourself & your child through breastfeeding. I cannot begin to understand how so many mothers trade it willingly for a bottle.

I feel stretched so thin & I know I'm battling the dark grip of depression again. The fight of getting Brit here was finally won, but the loss of raising him the way I have always dreamed of has been a massive blow. Repeatedly analyzing our situation doesn't help, I just keep thinking I could figure out a way to stay home with my boy & I don't know how to stop. I'm trying to cope & move on, this is the not only breaking my heart but it's also the loss of a life long dream, which is terribly hard to give up. Yes, there are worse things in life, but this was/is deeply important to me. I knew before he came that I was at an elevated risk for PPD due to multiple factors, forgetting the negative & embracing the positive hasn't been a solution, it's a band-aid fix. I want to be heard & even if what I say is stained & dirty-to be listened to & truly supported-not shushed with shallow responses. Depression is ugly, a glass half full approach isn't the cure. I feel hopless, alone, & angry that I can't just simply enjoy this time in my life after  the raging war to get here.
And just so that you know, there are many other factors that contribute, but don't need to be detailed & discussed here, I've shown enough ugly for now. These words are honest & from my heart & may not be embraced by each person that reads them but they are my reality & I ask for you to be kind in your thoughts & responses.