I am not generally a guilt-ridden person when it comes to parenting; I tend to do what’s best for me and my family and not worry too much about it.
However, Wesley has contracted some kind of daycare-itis after less than two weeks there and has been coughing off and on for two days, and every single time he has a coughing attack it makes me want to cry and then throw up. He sounds so pitiful and I just know he got it from the other daycare babies and then I have horrible guilt for even putting him in that situation. MAH POOR PRESHUS SNOWFLAKE.
I think it’s because I keep having this overwhelming feeling that this isn’t how things were supposed to turn out, like I should have had this figured out before he arrived so I wouldn’t have to put him in daycare for most of the week. I feel like it’s my fault he’s sick.
I also have guilt that I see him less than anybody now. THIS is the thing that really breaks me up. The daycare providers get him most of the day, Daniel is able to pick him up early so he gets a few extra hours with him each day, and then he has Wesley all day on Fridays. Meanwhile, I see Wesley for maybe an hour or two daily while he’s awake. Saturdays and Sundays are better, but for the love of Pete, I don’t even really get to see him SMILE anymore because he’s either eating, asleep, or attempting to be asleep when I see him. Talk about knifing me through the heart.
This is also why I have next to no pictures of him for the last two weeks because he’s at daycare all day! And I am at work! Sad!
Meanwhile, Daniel is busy being Mr. Mom and I came home yesterday to loads of laundry finished; dinner made; baby bathed, fed, and sleeping; and a rose, a card, and some strawberry Jell-O to celebrate nine years of our lives together. Plus, he managed to find me the Pop-Up Book of Gnomes (scroll down) for my birthday which is my new favorite thing I never knew I always wanted.
Talk about putting me to shame. Good grief. When I was on maternity leave it was an accomplishment if I put on PANTS for the day. By about eight or nine weeks, I felt like things were going really well – I could often get some things done during the day, Wesley was big enough to hang out in his Bumbo while I folded laundry or sewed some projects, and I was feeling pretty good. We were getting out of the house regularly and I was seeing more of Portland and visiting places Daniel had only ever told me about and seeing friends…
And then I had to go back to work.