Making Emotional Ends Meet

From the moment I saw "Pregnant" in the window of the pregnancy test, I have thought about time. My own sense of mortality heightened as I realized what we were about to step into. Did I have enough time to devote to a child? Did I have enough time before the baby came to give up my selfish ways forever?

Were we kidding ourselves to think we could both work full time (since the economy and finances basically obliterated any chance of a one income family) and successfully raise a child? (And what constitutes success, the fact that your child is growing and achieving milestones or the fact that you've kept them alive or haven't tried to barter them off in exchange for a Prada purse?)

Everyone's doing it, my rational side whispered. There are families that make it work. Your own family made it work. John's family made it work. YOU can make this work.

I made up my mind. We would soldier on as our parents did before us. We would raise our little one with every confidence in the world that we were doing the right thing. (And the fact that I called our baby-to-be a parasite in the beginning should not count against me since, technically, she was, and I was riding high on hormones. Who knows what pregnant women say and mean? They're all nuts!)

Then we gave birth. And I fell head over heals, nothing else in this world matters, I must have been really good in my pastlife to get this blessed, God must have spent a little more time on you, etc, etc, etc. in love with my daughter.

Suddenly, the long, luxurious 12 week maternity leave became claustrophobic, cramped, the seconds reminding me that time was running out and reality was knocking. Oh My God, someone else is literally going to raise my baby! What the hell were we thinking?!

I had to go back to work. John had to work. We had to give up our living legacy into someone else's arms for 9 hours at a time and hope that they would answer her cries, tend to her whimpers, and love her as fervently as we did, but not fervently enough to replace us, as that would turn my green eyes red.

Since Sprite turned three months old, we have been relying on a day care center to help us raise her. I hate this. I hate this with all the strength in my being. I have a mental war with myself every morning over the pros and cons of Sprite being in day care.

Pros: Sprite is learning social skills that are invaluable in today's world. Her vocabulary grows exponentially due to the exposure she has to other children and other adults versus exposure she would have only to me on a daily basis.

Cons: I miss her. I miss her badly.

Pros: Sprite gets to play in structured groups and on toys that we simply don't have the space or money for at home. She also learns independence and learning to think for herself.

Cons: Someone else gets to watch my child experience firsts, firsts that I selfishly want to watch myself. (I couldn't give up ALL my selfish tendencies, right?) And I miss her. I miss her badly.

Pros: Sprite gets the best of John and me since she doesn't get ALL of John and me. (If that doesn't make sense, maybe this will. Since John and I know we have limited time with her during the week, we tend to be more patient with her outbursts and tantrums than someone who has just witnessed the 15th tantrum of the day and has had it up to here.)

Cons: John and I have to struggle with the fact that we don't have full control over what happens to our daughter or who our daughter has contact with every minute of the day. And I miss her. I miss her badly.

I also worry about Sprite starting to prefer her teachers to us. There is one teacher at her school she is particularly fond of. She already knows her name and says it regularly. We were at a party this past weekend and she called out this teacher's name while walking around, like she was looking for her. While I thought it was cute, I also wondered if this was something that could potentially become a problem. Could I lose my position as her favorite person by an unsuspecting teacher who is in charge of twenty-something other children and unaware that my daughter idolizes her? Or did Sprite possibly think that a party guest bearing a striking resemblance to this teacher was in fact her favorite teacher and she was just trying to say hi? (Heh heh, my emotions run away from me sometimes.)

John and I worry about how we're raising her, just like every other family unit out there. We hope that we're instilling the right values in her and that those values aren't being deprogrammed on a daily basis when she goes to day care.

We worry about her feelings for us. Will she harbor any resentment for the fact that we sent her to a day care center to be herded with other children while we went to work every day or will she appreciate what we had to do to provide her with a life we could never have given her if one of us wasn't working?

Then Sprite puts our minds at ease and reminds us in her own way exactly where we stand in her life. When she sees John or me, she shouts our names out in a way that makes the world right again. It makes us feel special. Hell, it makes us remember we ARE special.

We're trying so hard to make Sprite's environment a richer place, and while so many others focus on trying to make financial ends meet, we're trying to make sure the emotional ends are just as important.

Comments

[Baba]

Just look at her...She is perfect she is happy and get's along with the other children. But....I know how you both feel...Dad and I wondered if we were doing the right thing with you and your sister. I look back and I still feel bad about Day Care...But you both are wonderful kids. I Love You both.

[Lisa]

Oh gosh I could have written this post. I have soooo many of the same worries.

My Jonathan is with the sitter four hours a day but it is four hours I'm not with him, to watch him and be there for him.

Hubby has him in the mornings so there are only four hours he doesn't have us. still...I worry about all you have worried about too. Glad I found your site and know there are others who worry like I do!