working mom guilt – Paige is Parenting

I will be 37 weeks pregnant tomorrow and today was day one of my maternity leave.

It came about a bit earlier than I had planned, thanks to a brief hospital visit for dehydration (thanks, stomach bug), followed by another head cold.

At the advice of my OB, I “pumped the brakes” and took my maternity leave early.

And the timing couldn’t have been better. Jameson developed what we’re pretty sure is a case of pink eye yesterday, so I got to spend my first day on leave at home with him.

Sure it was a slight wrench in the plans I had to finish packing the hospital bag and organize the house. But honestly, it was also a relief to know that I could just decide to keep him home with me today without worrying about the repercussions of calling out of work again with a sick child. Or having to guiltily try and send him to school and hope he does okay because I can’t afford another missed day.

My little pink eye guy, eating just the cream from some candy cane Joe Joes during our Christmas movie marathon

So yes, it was a different kind of day than I had planned but I’m still very grateful for it.

We mostly stayed home and played make believe games and watched one too many Disney Christmas movies. I got to make him every one of his meals today, which was nice to do. And I even took him food shopping with me in the morning (something he really enjoys because he loves to sample stuff as we go along).

Like mother, like son. This kid loves to snuggle in laundry baskets, just like I did when I was little. It cracks me up and warms my heart all at once.

He’ll probably be home with me again tomorrow and thankfully I can once again choose that option without stress, thanks to being on leave. Man, what a pleasant feeling that is.

This past Wednesday, Jameson got hurt at school. He was running towards the slide, slipped, and rammed headfirst into it. This resulted in a seriously big bump that required me to leave work and take him to his pediatrician to get looked at.

The entire drive to his daycare had my mind reeling with how bad it might be. When the director called me that morning she had told me to “prepare myself” for how bad it looked, even though he was running around again and seemed to be doing fine.

Needless to say I was not doing fine as I pictured how horrific his head might look.

To try and calm my nerves I called my mom…which turned out to be the opposite of a good idea, as she went over the many reasons why she thinks our daycare sucks and we should pull him out of there.

Thankfully, when I got there he was in good spirits. The bump was large, no doubt about it, but still better than what I had been picturing in my mind after the daycare call.

All smiles for mama when I picked him up early for a doctor visit

Even with the relief of seeing that he wasn’t as injured as I had imagined and hearing from his doctor that he didn’t have a concussion, I still felt terrible.

My child got hurt again at daycare. My child got hurt while being in the care of someone else. This wouldn’t have happened if I was home with him, the guilty voice in my head scolded. I should have been there.

Never mind that toddlers trip all the time. Never mind that my son has fallen, tripped, and somersaulted over apparent thin air while in my care. He had never gotten a bump like that, and for that I was racked with guilt.

So what did I do to quell said guilt? Talk to another mom about it to make myself feel better? Journal about it even? Heck no.

I did the stereotypical working mom penance of ice cream and material objects.

One scoop of vanilla ice cream with a mountain of sprinkles and whipped cream at eleven in the morning? Coming right up!

Not one, but two new Halloween books from Barnes and Noble? Sure, you deserve it!

And why don’t we throw in a ten dollar realistic elephant toy since you’ve recently learned the word elephant and it will make mama feel better for having abandoned you at your very pricy daycare all day?

Picking out one of his new books at Barnes and Noble

Now here was my injured but happy as a clam child, thumbing through the pages of his new pop-up book with a belly full of sugar.

And there I was on the other side of the camera, feeling guilty still but placated by the fact that there was a smile back on my child’s face.

D came home later that evening and shook his head at the impulse buys I had made.

“He didn’t need any of this stuff, honey,” he said.

“Maybe not,” I replied. But I needed it.

Tag: working mom guilt

The start of maternity leave

The return of working mom guilt